


The Five Stages of Grief

by hollowlife



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, Pre-Relationship, Zombie Demons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-08 15:35:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1134395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollowlife/pseuds/hollowlife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichabod and Abbie are finally able to rescue Katrina from Purgatory. Ichabod hopes to resume a life with his wife, but instead, Katrina decides to rejoin her coven. Abbie decides to take it upon herself to help Ichabod deal with the aftermath of the situation, in whatever way she can.</p><p>All is takes is copious amounts of alcohol, tough love, zombie killers and Abbie's stubborn determination, but as Crane works to find his closure, his eyes are opened to a new life and relationship with Abbie Mills.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> A/N - No Katrina canon here. There is no kid. The Coven is not "Sisters of the Radiant Heart" and she hasn't been kicked out of the coven. Alternate Katrina for plot purposes.
> 
> Oh and since the Season 1 finale - none of that canon also! Our illustrious duo are well and in the here and now!
> 
> Takes place in the near future....Please enjoy.
> 
>  
> 
> *** ---> Thank you to my excellent beta AdHominemArgument!

**Chapter 1- The Rescue**

_Underground Cave. Sleepy Hollow. Present Day._

The fireball was intense, a narrow column of deep red, orange, blue and purple swirling towards the sky. The flames enveloped the large stone altar that stood on a rough marble platform, almost masking the twenty tall candles that flanked the platform on either side. The base of the stone altar was enveloped by angry red flames and miniature strikes of lightning. The dirt floor rumbled as loud booms echoed throughout the dank cavern.

The White Coven's leader, a warlock named Aldus, stood five feet from the raised altar, chanted rhythmically. He was notorious among the other covens for his immense magical powers. The tall, heavyset warlock held a long wooden staff in one hand, a dagger in the other, his arms outstretched to the heavens.

Abbie Mills stood far back, leaning against the rough stone wall of the cave, watching the scene unfold, her body tense, her senses on edge. Ichabod had demanded that she watch from the back of the dank cave, safely ensconced, gun pulled and ready. She reluctantly agreed, not because she wants to be out of view, but because Ichabod had asked it of her.

Ichabod Crane himself was standing next to the warlock, body tense, fingers twitching uncontrollably at his side. His high collared coat was absent from his shoulders, instead lying over a rock next to Abbie's feet. The sleeves of his grey shirt had been rolled up above his elbows. Abbie watched as Aldus turned towards Ichabod and raised the dagger, still chanting in some foreign language.

Abbie felt her stomach clench. She knew this was a required part of the ritual, knew it was safe, but still felt nervous and uneasy. She watched, breath held, as Ichabod raised his left arm and bent his forearm back, exposing the underside. With an efficient move, the warlock brought the blade down, deeply slashing Ichabod's forearm. Ichabod winced, as did Abbie. The chanting never ceased, as the knife now scraped up the blood that was trickled down his skin. 

The warlock turned back towards the altar and flicked the blood from the knife into the flames. Immediately, the column turned bright white. The warlock's voice now rose as he raised his arms and with a finality, yelled out the name _KATRINA!_

Abbie shielded her eyes as a loud crack issued from the altar, along with a bright flash of light, like thunder and lightening. The cavern shook violently causing dust and dirt and small rocks to tumble down from the walls and ceiling and then....

Nothing.

All was silent. The room was still. 

The only illumination came from several wall-mounted candles that hung along the cave walls.

To her surprise, Abbie could see a lone figure lying on the floor in front of the altar, clearly feminine by her features. Her face was covered by a shock of long red hair. She was wearing a off-the-shoulder black dress, cinched at the waist, the full skirt and hem dirty, ragged and torn. 

It had worked. The magical spell had worked.

Abbie released the breath she didn't even realize she was holding. She moved forward a little, but still remained hidden from view. Standing behind a large boulder, she waited for the joyous reunion to unfold.

.......................................................

 

"Katrina?" Ichabod breathed out, his voice hesitant.

Both he and the warlock moved forward and knelt by the woman's side.

"Katrina?" Ichabod whispered again, tenderly brushing the crimson hair out of her face. Aldus gently raised her wrist, carefully checking for a pulse. Ichabod looked up expectantly at him, his heart pounding with hope.

"She is whole again, Ichabod. She is now of this world." Aldus declared, a solemn yet satisfied smile on his face.

Ichabod's heart pounded in anticipation. He would finally be with his beloved wife once more. It had been a year since he had awoken in the modern 21st century and it had taken a year for him and Miss Mills to figure out how to save Katrina from purgatory. He gently stroked her cheek. "Katrina? Katrina, wake my love." 

She started to stir, then her eyes fluttered open, green and vibrant. He struggled to tamper the elation that coursed through his body.

"Ichabod? Is that you?" She reached out and grasped his arm, her eyes still a bit unfocused. She seemed unsteady on her feet and a bit disoriented.

"It is I, my love." He took her hand and helped her rise, his other hand around her waist, steadying her. "Are you okay? Do you feel any pain?"

"No...no pain. I feel fine. Quite well."

Aldus now spoke. "You are free, Katrina. You are of the living world. The modern world." 

"The living world..." she breathed. She looked up at Ichabod, then at Aldus. "I am...free" 

"The _Eripio _spell has been successful." The warlock said. "You are free from Moloch and Purgatory, Katrina. We have been successful. All we have anticipated has been successful."__

__Katrina nodded knowingly. 'Thank you, Aldus, most gratefully. We shall now continue on." Katrina bowed her head towards him respectfully, then turned back to Ichabod._ _

__"My darling ,you have rescued me from my prison, my punishment. And I thank you." She moved forward and gave Ichabod a chaste kiss on the lips. He tried to pull her closer, to feel her warmth, to wrap his arms around her; it had been too long. He longed to feel her touch, her welcoming form. Instead she stepped back from him, and quickly glanced at Aldus. He responded with a reassuring nod._ _

__"What is it, beloved?" he asked softly. "Are you not happy to see me? To be here?" He took her hands in his own, ignoring the trickle of blood staining his arm, his clothing._ _

__Katrina smiled sadly. "I am, Ichabod. I just..."_ _

__"Just what?"_ _

__Her eyes became more vivid green and she looked at him sadly, tears staining her eyes. "I never thought I would see you again. I hoped, nay, I prayed that I would never see you again."_ _

__"What do you mean?" He was confused._ _

__"Ichabod. You have to understand. You had been bound to the Horseman by blood. When you cut off his head and fell on the battlefield, your blood and his blood commingled. You were as one. The spell I cast upon you bound your soul with the Horseman. If he rose, so shall you. I had hoped....believed that I would never see you again."_ _

__"You never expected to see me again?"_ _

__"No. I did not."_ _

__"But you came to me, in my dreams."_ _

__"I had to. I needed to guide you, direct you. But you were a vision, a mist, a figment, just as I was to you."_ _

__"You never thought I would have been able to free you?"_ _

__Katrina did not respond._ _

__"You forgot me."_ _

__"No! I did not forget you, Ichabod. I mourned you, mourned with all of my heart. But I had to move on. I had accepted that I would never see you again. I filed you away in my heart, but you were gone to me."_ _

__Ichabod dropped her hands from hers. "I...I remember when they brought my dying body to the triage tent. You were next to me, grasping my hands, begging me to live. What of that?"_ _

__Again, she was silent._ _

__Ichabod took a few steps away from her and stared at the stone altar, desperately fighting back the tears within. His wife, his beloved wife had finally been released. She was with him. She was whole. They were to continue their life together. Or so he foolishly allowed himself to believe._ _

__And now was she renouncing him._ _

__"Do you love me? Did you love me?"_ _

__"Please, know, that I have spent the last 250 years trying to forget you. Trying to forget out life together. I mourned for years, for decades, but slowly my memory of you and our life became dimmer and dimmer. My acceptance stronger and stronger. You were gone from me, and I made peace with that."_ _

__"Did you ever love me?" he demanded, his voice harsh and flecked with anger._ _

__"I did love you, yes. I grew to love you. Very much."_ _

__"Grew?" Ichabod shook his head, trying to make sense of this all. "When you first met me, you disliked me, did you not?"_ _

__She nodded sadly._ _

__"What had changed?"_ _

__"My father."_ _

__"Your father?"_ _

__"He...he required me to stay with you. He tasked me with ensuring your safety, your well-being."_ _

__Ichabod again shook his head in disbelief, utterly confused. "Why would he ask this of you?"_ _

__"My father was the nephew of General George Washington. He requested to my father that I keep by you, watch you, protect you. You were and are the first Witness, Ichabod. We knew then how important you were to the cause."_ _

__Ichabod was stunned, unsure of how to reply. His stomach was clenched tight, he felt ill. He closed his eyes, breathing heavily, trying to understand. These revelations were causing him to feel dizzy, the lies of his life with Katrina crashing down on him, threatening to drown him._ _

__"Katrina, it is time to go. We must go." Aldus spoke softly but with some urgency._ _

__"Go? Go where?" Ichabod demanded._ _

__"The war is not over. There is much to be done. I must go....I must go with my brethren, go and continue the fight."_ _

__"You will join your coven? You will not resume a life with me?"_ _

__"Ichabod, you must continue the fight. You and Miss Abigail Mills must continue as Witnesses, continue to brave these tribulations. Together. You belong together."_ _

__He just stared at her, his face now full of pain, though he was trying to be stolid. "I will not see you again, then?"_ _

__"You will see me. Our paths are destined to cross again. I am here in the now. If you want of me, I can be summoned. But I belong with my coven now."_ _

__"Katrina. We have little time." Aldus reiterated._ _

__"I must leave, Ichabod."_ _

__"You must leave. I will not stop you." his voice was flat and cold._ _

__Katrina approached him cautiously. She took his hands in her, and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. At her touch, Ichabod closed his eyes, but did not respond. Her touch felt different then he remembered, her fingers cold and unfeeling._ _

__"I am sorry." she whispered in his ear, letting go of his hands._ _

__Aldus and Katrina now moved to the altar. Aldus raised his staff and after mumbling a few words, brought it down hard against the ground. A flash of light, a burst of black smoke and instantly, the two of them disappeared._ _

__Ichabod slowly staggered to the center of the room. He felt drugged, destroyed, shattered. His mind tried to wrap itself around everything she had said to him. Everything she laid bare. He stood motionless, staring but not seeing the altar in front of him._ _

__A minute or more had passed, he was not sure, but he felt something very warm and comforting against his left hand. It was Miss Mills. She was standing silently next to him, twining her fingers with his own, squeezing in an attempt to reassure him._ _

__"She is gone." he plainly stated._ _

__Abbie didn't respond. They stood there for another ten minutes in silence. Ichabod then removed his hand from hers and cleared his throat._ _

__"Miss Mills. Please take me back to the cabin."_ _


	2. Denial and Isolation - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichabod enters the first stage of grief. Abbie is her awesome self and there a little bit of drinking going on...
> 
> Longer chapter.

**Chapter 2 - Denial and Isolation - Part 1**

The drive from the underground cave to Corbin's cabin was about an hour. Sixty minutes of excruciating silence and Abbie felt every minute of it. Ichabod, normally so engaging and verbal, was absolutely silent.

As she drove, she would steal a glance at Crane every few minutes, trying to gauge his mood, his thoughts, his feelings. She wanted to do something, say something - anything - to comfort him but no words or actions came. Ichabod had not uttered one word since asking her to take him home. He just sat quietly in his seat, staring out the passenger window, lost in thought.

Abbie had watched the events unfold from her perch behind a large boulder at the rear of the cave. She didn't think the others could see her, but the cavern had echoed every word clearly. 

She expected to witness a heart-felt loving reunion between husband and wife. What greeted her was something so sad and pitiful, she wasn't sure she could watch it unfold.

Abbie's heart broke for Ichabod. The rejection, hurt and devastation in his face was absolutely heart-wrenching. He had finally rescued his beloved wife and hoped to resume a life together. Instead, Katrina rejected him, telling Ichabod that she was no longer in love with him and did not want to be reunited. He found out quite harshly that the relationship was full of manipulations and filled with lies. 

Abbie knew that Katrina's actions were well-intentioned - all for the fight against evil - but she couldn't help but feel angry. The brutal clinical honesty Katrina had used was too much .

Abbie knew that Crane needed some peace and quiet to process it all and she would give him this, deciding not to say a word for the duration of the car ride.

Another twenty minutes passed in absolute silence until Abbie pulled into the dirt and gravel driveway of the cabin.

She parked the car close to the front door, shut off the engine, and turned towards Crane. She couldn't remain silent any longer.

"Look, I know that you are feeling..."

He cut her off immediately. "I am fine, Lieutenant. Tonight's endeavor is simply a typical manifestation of the trials we will be expected to meet. That is what it shall be." He flashed her a tight, contained smile. Ichabod unhitched his belt, pushed open the car door and headed towards the dark cabin.

Another sign that he was upset. He had left his precious Revolutionary War coat, ever present on his shoulders, on the backseat of the car.

Abbie quickly threw off her own seatbelt and grabbed the coat. That smile was the most fake thing she had ever seen and she wasn't about to let him get away with it.

"Crane."

He continued to walk down the gravel path to the cabin, ignoring her calls. His long legs took him quickly down the path towards the front entrance.

"Hey! Crane! Stop, dammit." He ignored her, instead fiddling with the lock of the main door.

"Crane!" She finally was able to reach him, as he unlocked the front door and pushed it open, Abbie following close behind.

"Lieutenant, what must I do for you?" He sighed. Though his voice was calm and seemingly collected, there was a hint of annoyance within the tone.

Abbie was non-plussed. She honestly didn't know what to say to Crane. She had no idea how to offer the proper comfort or support. What do you say to someone who rescues his beloved wife and immediately gets brushed off. Especially to a 250 year old man who was as incredibly reserved and indifferent as Crane now was.

Was this how 18th century people dealt with emotional upheaval? Or was this just an Ichabod thing?

"Well, first of all, you left your coat in the car..." She held it up for him to see, before hanging it on the hook by the door with a sigh, "...and second, I'm worried about you being alone."

Abbie watched as his back straighten, the indignity of being told he couldn't _handle_ this situation offensive.

"I am fine, Lieutenant." though his tone was now normal, his eyes were dark and dead.

"No, you're not." Abbie sighed. "That....that was a lot to take in."

"So you were privy to the entire exchange?"

"Yes. Yes I was. And I'm sorry but..."

Ichabod cut her off. "I am fine, Miss Mills. I require no more than some rest to recover from this wretched day." He moved past her and sat himself at the dining room table, body posture stiff and unyielding.

Dining room table. Abbie had to chuckle a bit about that. In fact, it was a beautifully axe-hewn picnic table that looked like Corbin had chopped out of some nearby trees and assembled to serve as a dining room table. Abbie loved it, getting a kick out of the fact that anyone visiting would probably be offended at the not trendy or elite piece of furniture.

"Miss Mills. I would very much like to retire in silence, if you please."

Ichabod was telling her what she knew she herself would tell any other. Frankly stated, he was saying in his ever polite manner, _leave me the fuck alone._

She sighed in defeat. "Okay, I'll go. But first, I am going to patch up your arm." she indicated his left forearm, which was covered in dried blood.

"I am quite fine, Lieutenant. You have done enough for me already." His voice was sad and low.

"Oh no, I haven't. You are going to shut up and let me fix your arm. Then I'll go." Abbie felt a bit of relief when he gave her small grateful smile, almost like his typical self.

She headed for the bathroom to get the first-aid kit, a towel and some antibiotic ointment, In the kitchen, she wet some paper towels.

Abbie now seated herself next to him, straddling the bench seat so she could face Crane while she worked on mending him up. "Turn around, I need to get to your arm." she commanded.

He brought his long leg up over the bench seat, repositioning himself so that he faced her. "Is this really necessary?"

"Yes, because I don't want you bleeding all over Corbin's cabin." She grabbed his wrist and bent his arm up.

Abbie carefully wiped the caked blood from his arm, trying to be as delicate as possible. She dried the area with the towel, as gingerly as she could. She didn't want the cut to reopen. Using a Q-tip, she applied some antibiotic ointment and then covered it with a long bandage.

"Don't get this wet - the bandage will fall off." She said.

"Thank you Miss Mills...I do not know what I would have done...without you. I...." he sighed again, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly, "I am most grateful."

She saw that his stiff demeanour had cracked a little. "Look, I'll stay with you if you want. I know this must be hard..." she trailed off, her eyes meeting his, the anguish within his blue eyes causing her to almost wilt.

"No, Miss Mills. I am, as you say, alright. I thank you, but I shall be fine."

"Okay, but get some sleep. I need you to be alert. I can't fight the supernatural crazy on my own."

"Yes, Miss Mills."

They both stood up from the bench, his arms now clasped behind his back in his typical stolid fashion.

She wanted to comfort him in any way she could. In spite of herself, she stepped forward and pulled him into a strong hug. Since he towered a foot over her, she could only wrap her arms around his narrow waist. Abbie rested her head against his chest and squeezed tight, trying to convey any feeling of reassurance.

Abbie wasn't normally a huggy person, but she felt she had to do something to try to make him feel better. She knew he probably wouldn't respond - it was inappropriate after all - but it only took a moment before he brought his arms around, holding her just as firmly. He rested his chin lightly on her head and sighed once again.

She pulled back after a few minutes and looked up at him, square in the eyes. "Okay?"

He again gave her a sad smile. "Okay."

"Good." She said cheerfully. She tapped him lightly on the cheek. "Ah, not as rough as I thought." she teased gently. He laughed a little. It was good to see him laugh a bit. She hoped that somehow she has made him feel a bit better. 

"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow. Goodnight, Miss Mills."

"Tomorrow, Crane."

...........................................

Three weeks had passed since Katrina had been restored to life. For Abbie, those three weeks seemed like an eternity. Crane, though somewhat in shock the first night, had become withdrawn and uncharacteristically quiet. Abbie missed the snarky, sometimes playful, sometimes outraged Ichabod Crane. Now, he was more reserved - _was that even possible?_ \- and utterly forlorn. She knew that he needed time to process and that he needed time to recover - at least temporarily.

He spoke only when announcing a important finding or discussing any pertinent information to an investigation. The joy he felt when making a new discovery was absent.

It was a Wednesday and Abbie had not heard from Crane for the last two days.  
But she expected that like so many other times before, he would be anxious to accompany her on any mission. Any time in the past, whenever a call to the Sleepy Hollow Sherrif's Department was registered and Abbie would answer, he would accompany. _Nothing was normal anymore,_ he had once stated. And Ichabod was right. The reality was that every police call had the potential to be an end-of-the-world mess.

For all of last week, she had faced these issues by herself. Not that she needed Crane, she surmised. Surprisingly, each call had been simple standard human mischief. No Supernatural, no Revelation, no Demons, no Apocalypse. It calmed Abbie, the normalcy of it all.

She was now in hour four of her shift, and dialing the same phone number for the sixth time that day. She was truly worried and desperate to reach Crane.

She had to admit. He was going through a rough time. An immensely difficult time. For someone who had woken up 250 years in the future, after apparently 'dying' in battle from a nasty axe blow, he had been remarkably stable and accepting of his fate. He was strong - stronger than she thought she herself would be in his circumstance - and simply barreled on.

But with Katrina deliberately removing herself from his life, he had literally fallen apart.

She hung up and redialed Crane again. Two rings later she was granted a "Hello." 

"Crane! Thank god you answered." 

Abbie had explained as well as she could about the phone in Corbin's cabin. It rings, pick up the receiver, talk here, listen here, hang up here.

She couldn't explain the science and engineering behind how an inanimate voice was able to transfer from one wireless device to another wired device miles away. _It just works that way, Crane._ At the time she had mused that so many devices, items and facts of life were something that most people just took at face value. They didn't think hard about how things functioned. It just did, and everyone knew how to work with it. Crane surprised her by doing just that - accepting the device at will. He was fine with the phone, picked up whenever she called, was able to call her cell phone or the police station without issue.

That was why when he didn't pick up, she grew increasingly worried. "I've been trying to reach you all day, where have hell have you been?"

"Musing."

"Musing? What do you mean, _musing?_ "

"Pondering. Reflecting." 

"Why didn't you answer the phone?" she asked in an annoyed tone. 

"My apologies Miss Mills. I was out of doors by the lake taking a moment to reflect." he replied sadly.

Abbie just shook her head. "Crane, I'm close by. I'm going to come pick you up, we have to go to the archives to look up something."

"Something?"

"I'll explain later."

He sighed. "As you wish, Lieutenant."

She hung up, then turned her car around and headed for the cabin. She really didn't have anything to 'look up or research'. She was just worried about him. He seemed so distant and removed. 

But the last thing she wanted him to do was 'Reflect' and 'Ponder.' 

Abbie thought back to the psychology courses she had taken in college. What was Crane going through right now? 

Oh yeah.

The _Five Stages of Grief_ flashed in her brain. 

Right now, he was in stage one - _Denial and Isolation._ Pondering, reflecting and musing were the last things he needed to be doing right now. She decided she would make it her mission to move him past this stage. 

And all five of the stages.

She thought back to a couple of her own past relationships. After the inevitable bad breakups, she would _reflect and muse_ over what she did wrong, or thought she did wrong. Wallow over what she could have done better. Maybe she was too snarky? Maybe she wasn't affectionate enough? Too closed off? To private? Is that why she was alone again?

Abbie pulled the car into the gravel driveway of the cabin and steeled herself. Crane was going to be doing his own wallowing and it wasn't going to be pretty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "hug" was written about a month before the 'Sin-Eater' episode - maybe I'm psychic! :')
> 
> Comments always appreciated!


	3. Denial and Isolation - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little ichabbie bonding over some unusual drinks...

**Chapter 3 - Denial and Isolation - Part 2**

Abbie entered the cabin without knocking and found Crane fully dressed, coat donned, collar up, rapidly pacing the room. One hand was behind his back, the other stroking his beard, seemingly deep in thought. If Abbie didn't know any better, she would have thought he was contemplating some serious scientific breakthrough that would change the world.

"Hey Crane."

"Ah, Lieutenant. You are here." He turned to her and gave her a small polite bow.

"How are you doing?" she asked hesitantly.

"Well. And yourself?

"Fine...." she eyed him carefully. _Okay, he seems...better..._ she thought.

"So, what was it that you would like to research in the archives." he asked, genuinely curious.

"Well, I just thought that we have some time, so we should continue looking up information on Moloch."

"Very well. I would be happy to oblige." he said, flashing her a quick smile. 

Abbie studied him thoroughly. Crane seemed calm and collected. His body language was relaxed - for him - his responses normal. This was such a contrast to the miserable withdrawn mess he had been over the last few weeks. 

In the twenty minute gap between her phone call and her arrival, his attitude had somehow improved. Abbie could flatter herself and think that she alone was the reason for his abrupt change. But she knew better.

Occasionally, over the last three weeks, she had been able to break through his defenses and glum state. His temperament and body language would almost return to normal. But it was always temporary. Just as quickly as his mood would improve, he would inevitably descend back into sullen silence. Today seemed to be one of those days. Right now, he seemed normal - chipper even. But she knew this would not last.

No, Abbie decided she would stick with her original plan. She was going to distract Crane by keeping him occupied and doing research in the archives always seemed to work the best.

"Well, then, let's get going." she said.

 

..................................................................

"Have you found anything of note?" Crane asked.

Abbie, curled up in a large armchair with a small book balanced on her lap, sighed loudly. "No. Nothing. Nothing at all." 

"I have had no progress either."

She had already been sitting for two hours scanning old books. Her eyes were starting to get blurry. It was after five o'clock and technically her eight hour shift was done. Abbie rubbed her forehead hard, trying to relieve the mild headache. She apparently had not thought her plan properly through. 

_Distract Crane. Check._  
 _Keep him occupied. Check._

_Go crossed-eyed due to reading too many books. Unfortunately, check._

"I need a break." she said as she closed the book and climbed out of the chair.

"Shall I fetch us coffee?"

Abbie shook her head. "No, I need a real break. I need to get out of here. We need to get out of here. Let's go for a walk."

"A walk?"

"Yes, a walk. You're always complaining about the lack of fresh air."

"That is true."

"So let's go get some."

Ten minutes later, Crane and Abbie were wandering down the streets of downtown Sleepy Hollow. The sun was just setting, casting a orange glow over the area.

"So what do you think of the old buildings around here?" she asked.

"Interestingly, I recognize a few. That place, for example." Ichabod pointed to the red brick building a few meters ahead of them. The half-moon shaped window that covered most of the front facade was framed in wrought-iron . "That was the Blacksmith shop. The pane glass masks the forging area." A large sign declaring this the _Sleepy Hollow Organic Food Market_ hung above the entrance.

"That building served as a tavern and lodging house." Crane now pointed to an English pub situated across the street. An elaborate green and gold painted sign with the name _The Fox that Fiddled_ indicated the front door.

"I guess some things remain the same." Abbie commented.

"Indeed. However, I am sure that tavern is much more reputable now."

Abbie laughed. "I know for a fact that it isn't." She had been in the bar many times before, both as a cop arresting rowdy drinkers and as a drinker herself.

"Then we should pay it a visit in the future."

"How about now?" she suggested. It was after six in the evening, perfect time for dinner and a drink. If she remembered correctly, Wednesday nights were 'karaoke at 9 pm', and 'buy one get one free martinis.' 

_This is perfect,_ she thought. She could unwind while introducing Crane to a modern American version of an 'English' pub.

They entered the pub to find it mostly empty and took a booth by a window.

"What do you want to drink?" she asked.

Crane thought for a moment. "I am not sure. What are my choices?"

Abbie studied him for a moment. What would be a good first drink. She didn't want to get the boring standard domestic beer. Straight rum, they already had. He could have that anytime. She knew what she herself wanted, then thought of something that might be perfect for him for his first modern pub drink. Something simple, classic yet quirky, with a little nod to his British heritage. A reflection of Crane himself.

The waitress came over to the table after a minute. "Hi Officer Mills. How are you doing?"

"Not bad, Mandy, not bad. But I'm off duty right now. Abbie is fine."

Mandy smiled kindly. "That's good, because no offense, but the boss hates it when you guys show up here."

"That's because he keeps allowing these drunken idiots into his bar so we end up being called here. Why don't you tell him to hire a bouncer for the weekends?"

"Because he's cheap as hell." she replied matter-of-factly. "So what can I get you two?"

Abbie grinned. "Mandy, my friend here and I are going a little weird. For him, a Boilermaker. For me, a Jägerbomb. And some water. Please."

"Starting hard, I see. Not a problem. Be right back." Mandy laughed and headed for the bar.

"What is a 'bouncer'?"

"Kinda like an enforcer. A security guard, but not a professional cop. Someone hired specifically to protect a bar or club from troublemakers."

"I see. And what are these libations you have requested? I have never heard of any drink named as such."

"Ah Crane, you're going to love it. I got you something very English. It's a beer cocktail. English Brown ale with a shot a whiskey."

"Will I be able to walk out of here after this?" he joked. "And what on earth is a Jäger-Bomb?" He drawled out the name of the drink.

"Red Bull and a shot of Jägermeister. Red Bull is an energy drink. Jägermeister is a German liquor. It kinda tastes herbally."

"You and your energy drinks." Crane tsked, shaking his head.

Mandy now appeared with the drinks, setting the pint of beer and whiskey shot in front of Crane, and the reddish coloured drink in front of Abbie.

"Can you give us a few minutes to think of food?" Abbie asked Mandy.

"Sure thing." she replied then rushed off again.

Crane took a sip of his beer. "Not bad. Quite nice actually. Not as sweet as I am accustomed to and clearer than I expected. I have had many a Brown ale during my time."

"Clearer. How so?"

"Most beer from my era tended to be cloudy and sometimes unfiltered. I have never seen such clarity."

"Who knew? Okay, so to make this a Boilermaker, you have to drop the whiskey shot straight into the beer."

Crane made to pour the liquid into the pint glass.

"No, Crane. Just drop it in. Glass and all."

"This is insanity."

"This is modern drinking."

Crane laughed a little as he carefully slid the shot glass into the beer. "A toast to our partnership..." he said as he raised his glass, "...and to our friendship." 

Abbie raised her glass and Ichabod clinked it with his own. He took a sip. "My word. That is quite - potent."

"But its good, isn't it?"

"It is amazing."

.............................................

Abbie and Ichabod sat at the booth for over an hour. They had already eaten through a plate of nachos and finished another round of drinks. They chatted idly about nothing and everything. Crane regaled her with unbelievable stories of his time bouncing from tavern to tavern when he was a British soldier and as a Professor in England. Abbie had to laugh - it seemed that drunken men behaved just as badly 230 years ago as they did now. Abbie told him about some of the rowdy college parties she had gone to and how men and woman tended to behave equally as foul. 

He described to her the first time he had participated in a long march and almost collapsed from the exhaustion, having lived the life of a nobleman literally one month prior. She told him about how she was the only female in her police training classes, and how she had to constantly compete and prove herself against the men during the physical training. Ichabod laughed the heartiest and the loudest when she told him she was sparring with another male trainee, almost a foot taller than she, who was taunting her relentlessly. One comment too far, and she had knocked him out cold.

"I had better ensure that I never upset you, Miss Mills. Ever."

"Because you _will_ be out cold."

"I don't doubt it." Crane paused for a moment, a serious look now appearing on his face. "Miss Mills, may I ask your advice of a personal nature?"

"Sure. Anything."

Crane took a deep breath. "Do you think that my wife will ever decide to leave the coven and rejoin us?"

Abbie gave him a sad smile. "I wish I could tell you. I really don't know."

"I spent an hour at the lake today, reflecting on this situation. Pondering as to how my wife and I could be reunited and resume our life together. 

_Ah...so this was what he was pondering and reflecting about._ She thought.

"I am concerned that her coven may be preventing her from being with me."

 _Where did that idea come from?_ Abbie thought then quickly realized - yup, confirmation he was in denial. It made complete sense. He had been isolating himself from her and everything around him for the past few weeks and now he seemed to be in denial about everything that Katrina had told him in the cavern.

"Do you feel that I should discuss this with Aldus, to present to him why she should endeavour to take time away from her coven?" he asked, his voice hopeful.

"I think it's worth a try"

"But do you think it is possible?"

Abbie paused for a minute. How would she answer this? Sugar-coated or harsh reality? She decided on the former. "I think so. I mean, I guess I can understand why she wants to be with her coven. They must be doing some secret and important work. Maybe she felt you would be in danger."

"Perhaps. Perhaps once she has settled into modern life, she may change her mind."

Abbie smiled kindly at Ichabod. "I think that's a good possibility. For sure."

"We were together once in harmony. In love. We can be again."

"Absolutely."

Abbie didn't want to tell him her true thoughts. Katrina was not coming back. Yes, she had loved him. The word loved being the key. Past tense. Ichabod was forgetting Katrina's other declarations. _I learned to love you. I was required to be with you. I mourned you. I moved on._ Ichabod was in denial about her words.

Abbie knew that Katrina had moved on. She just didn't have the heart to tell Ichabod. It reminded her a little of a couple of relationships of her own, where she was truly and completely done with the guy. They always begged for another chance, but by that point, Abbie knew it was well and truly over. She thought Katrina felt the same. Granted, her relationships were much shorter, but she knew, once you decided you were done with a guy, you were done.

She felt guilty for thinking the worst. Instead, she gave him a quick pat on the hand, trying to be positive for his sake.

"Don't worry Crane. You'll be together soon enough. I'm sure of it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N The English pub is based on a chain of pubs in Canada with a similar name.


	4. Anger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A angsty chapter with a bit of Ichabbie action.
> 
> For plot purposes, Ichabod does wear modern clothing from time to time. Comfortable clothing, Just not the infamous evil skinny jeans of the show. With all due respect to that awesome scene.
> 
> Please enjoy.
> 
>  
> 
> ___________________________________________________________________________

**Chapter 4 - Anger**

It was four in the afternoon and Abbie was headed to Corbin's cabin to see how Crane was doing. She had only managed a few hours of sleep that day, having been up all night with Crane fighting off a particularly vicious demon. Once again, the White Coven needed to be summoned to help out, and as with every time before, Katrina appeared, accompanied by the warlock leader Aldus. 

Abbie was always grateful for any help from the coven, but at the same time, she always felt guiltily annoyed to see Katrina appear. The witches and warlocks of the coven helped them out immensely, but every encounter she and Ichabod had with his 18th century witch wife would inevitably cause Ichabod to become absolutely miserable. She had dropped Ichabod at the cabin that morning, extracting the promise from him that he would get some sleep. She herself went home and managed four restless hours.

She had called Crane several times after she woke with no response. _Maybe he was out for a walk, maybe sitting by the lake_ , she thought, but her instincts told her otherwise.

Abbie arrived at the cabin and parked the car. Nothing seemed out of ordinary, but she still felt the need to approach the cabin cautiously. She didn't know why, but something about the situation made her feel apprehensive and cautious. Her senses were on edge, her body tense. Using her cabin key, she opened the front door and slipped inside.

For some reason, she half expected to see Ichabod seated on the couch, sharp nose engrossed in an old history book. But the living room was empty.

Abbie's hand moved down to her hip and quickly unsnapped the safety of her gun holster. Moving slowly down the hallway, she carefully checked out each room in the small cabin. No sound was heard and Crane was nowhere to be found. The cabin was deserted.

_Where in the hell was Crane?_

A loud thudding noise that echoed from the backyard of the cabin was her answer. Moving cautiously towards the deck, she slid out her gun, arms poised and secure. This was something she did these days. With all of the malicious evil that she and Crane frequently encountered, anything out of the ordinary seemed to require her gun. 

Not that the bullets always worked.

As she turned the door handle to the porch, another dull thud echoed into the air. Her fingers curled a little tighter around the gun.

Carefully pushing open the deck door, Abbie slipped out onto the wooden porch, gun aimed straight ahead. Eyes alert as she scanned the area, she moved off the porch and towards the banging noise, which seemed to emanate from the rear of the cabin. This was the spot where Corbin used to cut and store firewood for the living room fireplace.

What greeted Abbie, however, made her mouth drop.

The tall and lean form of Ichabod Crane stood in front of a large tree stump that served as the chopping block for the stacks of logs drying next to the cabin. He was clad only in low-slung white pants and his tall ever-present black leather military boots.

He was furiously yet methodically chopping wood and Abbie suspected he had been doing this for a long while. Split pieces of tree piled up high on either side of the chopping block.

Holstering her gun, she tentatively took a step closer. "Crane." she called out softly.

He didn't acknowledge her, instead swinging the axe once again into the block. The surface itself had large gouges and deep nicks scarring the top. Sizable chunks were missing from the top and edge.

She took another step. His slender torso was covered in a light sheen of sweat. His long hair, damp from the exertion, hung loose and lank.

Crane brought his arms up again, swinging the heavy hatchet around with all his might. Abbie saw how tense his body was, his lean muscles all tightly flexed and sinewy. With every swing and impact of the axe, the muscles flexed even tighter, looking almost as though tendon and bone would burst through skin. 

But that was not what worried Abbie the most. What worried Abbie the most was the look on his face.

"Crane. Hey." she said softly.

As he brought the axe up behind his shoulder, mid-swing he abruptly paused and locked his eyes directly with hers.

Her stomach twisted at the sight. Crane's blue eyes were filled with fury, vibrant with an intensity she had never seen before. His jaw was tightly clenched, his nostrils flared, mouth curled in bitter anger. His disheveled hair framed his face, giving him an almost sinister air.

For the first time since she had known him, she was truly, honestly frightened of him.

Crane didn't say a word, instead waiting a moment before following through with the axe stroke, using all his pent up rage and channeling it into the blow.

She immediately went into cop mode, deciding to deal with Crane as she would approach any disturbed individual when on duty. She flashed back to when she had to deal with Mr. Gillespie, when she and Crane were fighting the Sandman in what seemed like many moons ago.

"Ichabod, hey....hey, it's Abbie." It was one of the few times she had ever called him by his first name. Her voice was firm, yet tender and reassuring.

He brought the axe down hard again, managing to embed two inches of blade within the block, causing another large chunk to fly out of the stump. He stopped now, just standing stock still, fingers still tightly curled around the handle.

She moved slowly to his side. "Ichabod...." Abbie said softly. He didn't react at all, his eyes focusing on the ground to the right of her. His chest rose and fell rapidly, the weight of his endeavors causing him to breathe heavily.

Slowly yet cautiously, Abbie moved her hands to his. When he didn't react, she carefully pried his fingers off of the wooden shaft. He let her, but what she viewed now, the pity in her heart became almost unbearable. "Oh Crane...." 

The handle was smeared with blood, so much that the light brown grip appeared bright red. Abbie gently clasped his wrists and turned Crane's hands so the palms were facing up.

His hands looked as though they had been flayed. His long fingers had large blisters covering them almost to the fingertip. Between the thumbs and index fingers, the skin was raw, red and broken. The palms itself were blistered and seeping. Blood tricked out slowly, pooling into the middle of his hand.

"God...how long were you doing this for?" she whispered.

He didn't respond, his eyes still focused on the ground, unwilling to meet her own.

Christ. How many hours had he been chopping wood? No gloves at all. How hard was he swinging? How much anger and rage did he have within him to cause him to swing the axe so hard that it battered up his hands this badly, tearing them up with blisters and broken skin?  
Abbie bit her bottom lip as she fought back the tears that threatened to invade her eyes. Instead, without a word, Abbie gently grasped his wrist and elbow and led him to the cabin. She was going to make him take a shower, then fix up his hands the best she could. 

They entered the cabin. Crane just allowed Abbie to move him along. She brought him to the tiny bathroom and set out some towels.

"OK, you are going to shower, and then I am going to bandage up your hands, alright?"

He nodded, looking defeated, eyes downcast, almost in a trance. His usually bright blue eyes seemed dull and almost grey, framed by dark shadows below. 

She closed the door behind him and headed for the kitchen, just now realizing how tight and nervous she really was.

______________________________________

 

Ichabod winced as he tried to carefully undress. His palms, crusted over with drying blood and broken blisters, stung immensely with every movement. He did not want to soil his garments, so he carefully used his thumbs to slide the clothing from his body. He winced as the cuts on his hands reopened, spilling fresh blood which trickled bright red over his fingers and wrists.

He took a deep breath, willing himself to calm, to find serenity, anything soothing amidst his angry turmoil.

Again with the tips of his fingers, he carefully turned the hot and cold knobs, waiting a minute or so for the temperature to find soothing equilibrium.

As he waited, he took a look at himself in the mirror. The deplorable figure staring back at him caused his stomach to considerably tighten. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes, almost black and bleak. His hair was truly unbecoming. It hung loose, wet with perspiration, stringy strands clinging to his bearded chin and cheeks. His expression was appalling. Morose, melancholy, and overall exceedingly distressing.

Throughout the last weeks, he truly believed that he was finding closure, embracing solace over the reality that his beloved wife had deserted him. She had chosen her witch companions. Her coven. Once rescued from her evil prison, she had chosen a different path. And that path did not include Ichabod. 

And tonight, when he encountered his wife again, she was more in tune with the warlock Aldus, the man who performed the spell to save her. Ichabod could see Aldus' treatment of Katrina. He was delicate, tender, concerned and proud. Aldus would gently touch her arm or hand or waist and Katrina would smile every time. Katrina was with him now. There was a bond there, an intimate connection that Ichabod could clearly observe.

It was similar to the bond the two of them shared centuries ago.

 _How am I to move on from this?_ he thought. It had been almost three months since her rescue and yet the pain was still unbearable. He felt as though Katrina had taken a sharp knife and repeatedly gashed it through his heart, ripping and tearing at its fabric, its life force, just as the Horseman has done to his chest that fateful day. _How could one woman affect him so? Was he truly this weak of heart?_

Abigail Mills had been his only respite. Abbie was his only illumination, shining bright within a dank chasm of despair and misery.

He felt his heart lift, a glimmer of life and hope and levity peering into his darkened void. Abigail Mills, in her stubborn manner, had demanded to take care of him. She mended his arm, slashed during Katrina's resurrection, checked up on him daily, tried to cheer him up, distract him, motivate him, move him on.

He felt his heart swell with even more emotion. 

Her concern for him, her strength, compassion, empathy and no-nonsense attitude helped him carry on.

Ichabod checked the water temperature. It was just right, steaming hot, almost scalding. Abbie would chastise him later for the electrical costs, he was sure, but he hoped she would understand for the present.

He stepped in carefully, letting the hot needles of water wash over his body, beating his skin almost to submission. He held out his hands, wincing as the water cleansed the ragged skin on his palms and fingers. 

He had spent hours at it. He felt as though he were in a trance, a waking dream. Wood chopping, one furious swing after another, each intense strain of his muscles clearing his mind, emptying him of the hurt and misery before it came rushing back. After some time, he didn't even comprehend what task he was performing. It was repetitive, mindless and meaningless. But it was therapeutic.

Only Abbie broke him from his savage reverie.

His mind flashed to the look on Abbie's face when she saw him. She was fearful. So uncharacteristically fearful. He saw it plain on her face. Once glimpse of his unfortunate state and she was undeniably frightened.

And Abigail Mills was rarely truly frightened.

Ichabod leaned forward, carefully resting his wrists against the wall in front of him. The hot shower water battering his head and back, almost in penance. His shoulder-length hair, soaked so thoroughly, hung heavily at the sides of his face like a curtain.

Would he ever be reunited with Katrina? Would he ever be able to move on?  
Did he really want to be reunited? Would Abbie get tired of his melancholy and abandon him?

That last query seemed to spawn in him the most fear. 

He took a deep breath as he straightened up and viewed his hands. 

_Red, raw, flagellated._

With a sigh, Ichabod carefully lifted up the shampoo bottle and poured some on his head. He was able to lather up his hair with thumb and tip of fingers carefully, though he was sure some of the floral scented liquid mixed with his own blood as he washed.

He prayed that Abbie would be kind enough to tolerate him in his hour of need.

He thanked god for bringing him Abbie. 

Without her, he would be utterly lost.

__________________________________

Abbie stood in the living room of the cabin, staring out of the main window, looking off into the wilderness but not really seeing anything. She was scared. Worried and scared. 

Crane seemed to be doing okay, getting a bit better day after day. He was laughing more and overall seemingly relaxed. The snark and sarcasm slowly returned. Abbie realized that he was moving back to his own normalcy, however normal Ichabod Crane could truly be.

And then they encountered her again.

In their fight to ward off the Scarecrow daemon, they ended up needing help from the White Coven again. Five members appeared. One was the warlock Aldus. One was the witch Katrina.

There was an intimacy between Aldus and Katrina that Abbie picked up on immediately. It was subtle but there, a connection between young witch and elder warlock that Abbie didn't even want to speculate on. She prayed that Crane would not see it, realize it.

At the time, to her relief, he did not seem to notice. His demeanour was efficient, polite and respectful. Powers combined, the group easily vanquished the demon. Kind words and thank you's were exchanged. Crane even spoke to Katrina for a few moments alone. Abbie thought that they had made some amends, buried the hatchet, so to speak.

How wrong she was.

She had dropped Crane off at the cabin so he could hopefully get some rest and not dwell too much on the interactions between Katrina and Aldus. But it looked like he didn't rest or even try to sleep. 

Instead, Crane decided to channel the third stage of grief - _Anger._

And Jesus, was he ever angry.

Apparently Crane did see and sense what Abbie did. She couldn't help but think that it was lucky Ichabod didn't have a knife or gun or sword on him at the time. If he did, she was sure Aldus would be lying dead on the floor of the dry cornfield in a pool of his own blood. 

She stood for a few more minutes in reflection when Crane appeared at her shoulder, breaking her out of her thoughts. He was wearing a pair of black straight leg cotton pants and a casual black button down shirt, currently unfastened. He had taken to wearing a lot of black in the last few weeks. She wasn't sure if he realized it or subconsciously chose certain colours to reflect his mood. 

"Miss Mills." he said softly, holding his hands out at his sides, out towards her, silently asking her to patch up his hands.

Abbie gently grabbed his forearm and moved him back towards the tiny bathroom. She pulled out the first aid kit and antiseptic and placed it on the countertop. Because of his height, or her lack thereof, she jumped up onto the vanity countertop so that she was more level with him.

"Come here." Abbie directed Ichabod to stand about a foot in front of her. He did as told, keeping his hands outstretched a little, palms up. Washed of blood, his palms and fingers didn't look at bad as before, but were still raw, rough and angry looking.

"Crane, your hands are a mess. Seriously." 

"I know, Lieutenant."

Abbie wet a cotton swab with antiseptic and carefully dabbed at his palms. To his credit, he didn't wince - much. 

Abbie pursed her lips in annoyance. "You deserve to feel some pain, man. What the hell were you thinking?" She dabbed some more, then realized that her comment was a bit callous. "Crane, look I'm sorry...."

Ichabod smiled sadly. "No, it is fine, Miss Mills. You are correct. I do deserve this. My behaviour has been appalling."

Abbie shook her head. "No, it hasn't .You haven't been appalling at all. You're just going through a rough time. Breakups always suck."

Abbie now took some gauze pads and put a little antibiotic ointment on each one. Gently, she taped them to the most cut up parts of Ichabod's palms and fingers. Now, with precision, she carefully wound a long length of bandage dressing securely around his palms and fingers, covering and protecting them from exposure.

"Okay, you're done." she said, still holding his hands in hers. She paused for a moment, before looking up into his pale blue eyes. "What were you thinking?" she whispered.

He just shrugged his shoulders, unable to meet her gaze.

Abbie sighed in resignation. He was hurting, she knew that. But he had to get over this. Her eyes moved slowly over his face, his expression utterly forlorn, now noticing that his hair was still damp and hanging loose. He had washed it, but was unable to tie it back due to his injured and now bandaged hands. 

"Do you want me to do your hair?" She asked, thinking it strange to be asked a man this question.

"If you would be so obliged." he answered softly.

She shot him an exasperated look as she leaned over to grab the hairdryer lying in the corner. She flipped it on and aimed it at him in a playful manner. 

"This is for not bothering to answer the phone the six friggin' times I called you." Abbie aimed the dryer at Ichabod's face and chest. The hot air whipped the sides of his shirt almost off of his shoulders and caused him to shut his eyes tight. 

"I was....busy." 

"Oh yeah, I saw how busy you were. Messing up your hands. Do you know how long that will take to heal? Are you insane?"

"Moderately."

"Oh funny. Very amusing." Abbie rolled her eyes, yet felt a sense of relief. Crane seemed to have regained a bit of his natural humour.

"I may be certifiable." he noted.

"No, I know you are certifiable. Unfortunately, you are my partner and I have to deal with your crazy ass self for the long haul."

Crane smiled a little. "I am sorry my insanity vexes you."

"Yeah, I'll vex you...." Abbie grumbled. "Turn around and tilt your head back. Need to dry the rest."

Ichabod did as told, tilting his head back a bit. She moved the dryer quickly around his head while using her fingers to lift his hair to help speed the process. His hair felt soft and silky as she moved her fingers within, noticing that as it dried, it tended to curl a little at the ends, giving it more body. It took only a few minutes to be completely done

Next, she ran a comb through, carefully untangling the knots caused by the hair dryer. "Half ponytail or full?" she asked.

"Half."

She gathered up his thick hair around the crown, brushed it back and fastened it with one of the cotton hair bands that was currently around her wrist. Abbie was forever tying back her hair for police work, so she tended to have a spare hair wrap on her at all times. He wouldn't like the wrap, she knew. He preferred a leather tie to hold his hair, but she didn't know how on earth to keep his hair bunched together while trying to tie a string around it.

"There, done." 

Ichabod turned around and looked at himself in the mirror. "Thank you, Miss Mills. It looks perfect."

Abbie gave him a reassuring smile, then noticed that his shirt was still hanging a bit off of his shoulders. She made to grab the sides to pull together when her eyes fell to the right side of his chest. 

The scar was at least six inches long and half an inch wide, a long angled slash over the top of his chest. The healed skin was rough and raised, pale white against his already light flesh. The sides were slightly jagged and twisted. How it healed, she had no clue. It's not like they stitched him up neatly or anything like that. She knew it had something to do with Katrina and her magic. Abbie thought sadly that this scar would serve as a eternal reminder to Ichabod of a past life and of a past wife.

In spite of herself, Abbie placed her small hand flat over the rough raised skin.

"That's a hell of a scar." she declared.

Ichabod remained silent.

"The Horseman did that?"

"Indeed."

"With a broad-axe?"

"With a broad-axe."

"Do you remember feeling it?"

"A little. A bit in shock, really. But I think I was too engrossed in my attempts to dispatch the Horseman." Ichabod now rested his bandaged hand over her own.

"I can feel your heart beat." Abbie whispered, as she pressed her hand a bit more firmly into his skin. Despite the thick scar tissue, she could feel his heart thumping in his chest quite strongly. "You're alive."

"I am alive." 

Abbie looked up to see that Ichabod was staring intensely at her, his eyes now quite blue and vibrant. She felt a fluttering in her stomach and it surprised her.

His eyes blazed as his gaze dropped to her lips, the sudden want in his expression causing her belly to drop. She could see his chest start to rise and fall a bit more rapidly. His eyes moved from her lush lips to her beautiful chestnut eyes and back.

Slowly, he brought his hand to the back of her neck and gently pulled her forward to him as he leaned down. He carefully brushed his lips against hers, savouring the softness. Abbie closed her eyes and let herself enjoy the sensations. His lips brushed against hers again, the tip of his tongue teasing her ever so slightly. She pulled back a moment, his touch almost overwhelming her. She wanted to be close to him, to feel his body close to her, she almost couldn't bear it. 

She looked up into his eyes and without a word, he kissed her hard. 

His kiss was deep, full of passion, his anger and want now translating into him devouring her mouth. Abbie was taken aback for a moment, but only a moment. The fiery passion within Ichabod's kiss canceled that out. His tongue plunged into her like a velvet sword, teasing her, taunting her, demanding so much from her, her own mouth and tongue so willing to respond.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him close to her, tight against her body, as his mouth worked against hers, hard, rough and full of hunger. His bandaged hands carefully caressed her body and she moved her hands over his slender chest in response, savouring every lean muscle, her nails grazing his flesh, fingers feeling his radiating warmth. She could feel his need as he pressed his body hard against her, moaning ever so roughly.

Abbie slipped her hands up into the nape of Ichabod's neck, up into his hair, as he in turn moved down her neck once again, kissing, nibbling, his teeth grazing against her soft skin. His beard intensified the sensation, the soft yet coarse hair amplifying his actions. She moaned in reply, deep and ragged, her body tingling all over. 

"Oh god... _oh my god...."_

He was gentle yet firm, with a hint of roughness that turned Abbies' insides to mush. At times, he bordered on animalistic, barely able to contain himself, pushing his lean body against hers, devouring her, and Abbie was almost shocked that Ichabod would ever allow himself to lose control like this. The sensations were absolutely amazing. His lips and tongue felt so incredibly good. She let her head fall back, moaning as she did, giving him more access, and he did not hesitate. He moved down her neck once again, licking and kissing, then to her ear, his tongue teasing, tracing the outline, his lips and teeth pulling on her lobe. At the same time, his hands moved over her body as though he would never feel her skin again. Abbie could feel his breath, warm and heavy and luscious. Every pull of his lips caused her belly to tighten. She felt the wetness pumping between her legs, the ache within her wanting him more. She was amazed that simply kissing a man could cause her to become so aroused. She had never experienced that before and she never wanted this to end, the sensations were so incredible. 

And then, it did.

Suddenly, he pulled himself from her, his eyes wide yet still deep blue with passion. "God, what have I done?" He chastised himself in a whisper, still breathing heavily. He looked up at Abbie, eyes wide, truly mortified. He took two steps back, his body coming into contact with the opposite wall of the tiny bathroom.

"Abbie, I am so sorry.....oh god..." He slowly slid down the wall to the floor, his eyes wide open, his face full of regret. "I did not mean to...I could not stop...." He couldn't finish the sentence.

Abbie herself had to take a moment to catch her breath and quell the sensations in her body. Her limbs felt weak all over. _The way he kissed her...damn._ His body felt so good. The way he almost devoured her, her mouth and neck, the intensity and _my god_ , his lips and tongue.....How on earth does someone get her feeling like _that_ , by just kissing her. Christ.

She consciously slowed down her breathing and focused on Crane. He was sitting on the floor against the wall, knees up. His elbows rested on his knees, the edge of his palms pressing against his forehead, the expression on his face was purely mortification.

Once Abbie got control of herself, she slid slowly off of the countertop and took a seat next to him. She gently laid a hand on his arm.

"Hey. It's okay. I understand. "

"I have offended you with my unconscionable lascivious behaviour."

" No you didn't. Really." She tried to reassure him. Abbie wasn't offended by his behaviour at all. Hell, the thought had occasionally crossed her mind. She couldn't help it. When you spent almost every waking moment with an attractive charming guy who could make you smile and laugh, you couldn't help but have those thoughts cross your mind. Abbie thought that maybe Ichabod felt the same, but she knew that his 18th century morals and chivalrous nature were making him feel extremely guilty.

"My behaviour was most contemptible toward a lady such as you. I have mocked the trust and friendship that I hold dear..." Ichabod trailed off, as Abbie carefully took his bandaged hand in hers.

"Crane, relax. It's the 21st century. We are a bit more laid back about stuff. Things happen." She leaned against him. "I know you are hurting. I get that. I totally understand. And you didn't offend me at all." Her tone was sincere. "Besides, you know, I kissed back."

He looked at her intently. "You have been my rock, Abbie. I do not think I could survive without you. I feel....I feel so drawn to you. Enchanted by you." He surprised her with his candid yet open declaration.

"Well, we witnesses have to stick together."

"That is not what I mean." he said softly, though his voice cracked a little. 

"I know." Abbie leaned forward and gently kissed him on the lips. He surprised her by responding, using his own mouth to gently tease her bottom lip. It was a tender yet sensual kiss, and promised so much more.

"I need time." he whispered.

That simple action sent sparks though her body but he was right. He needed time. He needed to mourn, needed to complete each step and it would take weeks if not months. He needed to find his closure. 

"I know. And I will - hopefully - be able to help you get through it." Abbie took Ichabod's hand in hers, flashing him a reassuring smile. "And in the meantime, and you know this, I am your friend and will be here anytime you need me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Credit for the words "velvet sword" go to Katia Winter. When asked what it was like to kiss Tom Mison, she replied "His tongue is like a velvet sword." That sentence alone was too funny I have to somehow include it. Ah, cheesy romance novel dialogue.
> 
> Again, I must be psychic - the woodchopping scene was written before the actual one on the show.
> 
> The "low-slung white pants" Ichabod is wearing while chopping wood are the ones we see him wearing in episode 2 of the show, when you see him blow-drying his clothes in the motel room, in front of the sink. 
> 
> Next chapter is much lighter, I promise.
> 
> Thank you to my excellent Beta AdHominemArgument for pointing out things that I never caught the 300 times I reread and edited my work. Beta's are awesome.
> 
> Again, comments always welcome.


	5. Depression

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pure drunken fluff with some - hopefully - nice Ichabbie moments in it. Please enjoy!

**Chapter 5 - Depression**

"C'mon, get up. Up!' Abbie stood next to Ichabod's bed, pounding at his shoulder.

"Abbie, I just want to rest." He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.

"Nope, no way." Abbie moved to the curtains in the cabin bedroom and flung them open. It was four o'clock in the afternoon, but the setting sun was positioned right outside the bedroom window. The blinding light streamed into the room, the rays settling right onto Ichabod's face.

"Lieutenant!" Crane groaned, his eyes squinting against the bright light.

Abbie moved back to the bedside and started pounding at his shoulder again. "C'mon, you have been in bed all day sleeping. Time to get up!"

Crane laid his arm over his eyes, trying to block the sunlight. "I wish to sleep, if you do not mind."

"Oh no, Crane, I do mind. You're getting up now. I brought stuff to make dinner."

"Really Miss Mills, I am not hungry."

Abbie ignored him. She stood at the edge of his bed and pulled off the comforter cover, exposing his bare torso. She was careful not to pull down too much. She didn't know what Crane wore to bed, if anything. 

"I'm sick of your moping. You have been depressed for the last three weeks and I'm having none of it." She knew these actions were a bit harsh, but Crane needed to be forcefully pushed out of his misery.

Abbie went to the tiny linen closet in the hallway and took out some bath towels. Returning to the bedroom, she saw that Crane still had his arm over his eyes, grumbling to himself.

She threw the towels on top of him. "This is tough love, buddy. Now get up." she said sternly. "Go take a shower and we'll have something to eat. You seriously need to eat."

Without another word, Abbie headed towards the kitchen. 

_Did Crane ever need to eat, my god_ , she thought. 

He was already thin enough as it were. Crane was unusually tall for his century, so Abbie naturally assumed that he was most likely genetically predisposed to being slender. But she knew his thinness was also partly due to the fact that he didn't have the luxury of massive amounts of food in the Colonies and in the War. He may have grown up noble, but Abbie knew her history and knew the Colonies had a limited variety of food, all dependent on whether the crops survived a season. Greasy, calorie laden foods in huge abundance were obviously not an option for him, especially as a soldier in war. 

His weight loss was triggered from yet another encounter with Katrina. Only this encounter was not in person, but in letter form. Katrina had sent Ichabod a letter, a _Dear John_ letter, one that definitively sealed the fact that she had decided to remain with the White Coven. She would remain with her fellow witches and warlocks and continue their own fight against evil. She was to also become the primary disciple of the coven leader Aldus. Katrina stated that she did not know when - and if ever - she would reunite with Ichabod. 

Over the next three weeks after he received the letter, Ichabod dropped a lot of weight. Abbie thought twenty pounds. Maybe thirty? She didn't even think those numbers were possible. Did he even have twenty pounds to spare? When she had pulled off the comforter, she was a bit shocked. His ribs poked out from his already lean torso and his stomach seemed concave. He hid it well though. His beard masked the gauntness of his face and his ever-present Revolutionary War coat draped over his ensuing emaciation.

He looked nothing like he did when he had ravished her with kisses not two months ago. 

No, this boy needed to be fattened up and Abbie would be the one to do it. Her dinner idea was perfect for this task.

From the first grocery bag, she pulled out pasta, tomato paste, crushed tomatoes, garlic, onions, carrots, celery, peppers, gourmet meatballs, parmesan and a lime. She was going to make her famous spaghetti and meatballs. From the second, she pulled out three bottles of wine - one red, two white - and a bottle of tequila.

She was going to get Crane to do what she and everyone else she knew did whenever they were feeling low and depressed after a breakup.

_She was going to get him shit-faced drunk._

As Abbie popped the cork on the white wine, she heard the bathroom door close and the water start running. _Good, he's up,_ she thought, smiling to herself. 

He had survived denial and isolation and anger. This was the fourth stage before acceptance. She was going to get him past this stage if it was the last thing she did.

She spent the next ten minutes humming cheerfully to herself; chopping up veggies, interspersed with sips of a crisp Pinot Grigio. Her mind wandered to Crane, and how he had the luxury to sink into a miserable mess over the last three weeks, and that she actually had the next few days off. She could stay in, relax and drink her face off without having to get up in the morning.

These days, this was almost unheard of. 

For the last few weeks, the minions of evil had surprisingly left them alone. There were no attacks. No prophecies. No stolen demonic items. No ritualistic killings. It was as though the demons of hell had decided that Crane's misery and depression was enough torture for now and they decided to take a break from it all. Abbie chuckled a little at that morbid thought.

Abbie heated up some oil in a pot and seared the meatballs. A few minutes later, she added the mirepoix. Crane now emerged from the bathroom and slowly shuffled over to the kitchen table. He was dressed in a loose fitting grey button down shirt - top two buttons undone, untucked, sleeves rolled up - and a pair of black baggy cotton pants that seemed to hang low off of his non-existent hips. His hair was still wet from the shower and hung loose; he had not bother to dry it or tie it back.

"He arises." she commented.

"Miss Mills, is this a necessity?" he started, clearly put out. "I do not need to eat..."

"Yes, it is a necessity. You need to get out of your funk."

"I am not in a.... _funk_...as you term it."

"Crane, don't argue with me. You sleep all of the time, you have no energy, you don't eat, you’ve lost a ton of weight. _You are in a funk._ When was the last time you had a meal?"

"I have not lost weight..."

Abbie just shot him a withering look that clearly said, _Are you really that clueless?_

"Fine, I have lost weight. I just do not have the desire to eat at this time."

"Yes, I can see that. Because you were so clearly overnourished before."

"Sarcasm is not invited, if you please." He said, exhaling dramatically.

"I do please and I am going to continue to nag you until you get better." She now added the crushed tomatoes and paste to the pan, gave it a good stir and set a lid on top before continuing.

"And look at you. Mr Propriety dares to appear to a lady with untucked shirt, hair a mess, pants almost falling off. Seriously?"

Abbie had to give him credit; his cheeks turned bright red. She could tell he was mortified. "I am sorry to offend you. My most humblest apologies. I shall make myself more presentable." He started to rise from his seat when Abbie held out her hand.

"No no, sit down, Crane. I'm just giving you a hard time. You look comfy, actually." 

Surprising to her, he did sit. "I thank you Miss Mills, for preparing supper." he said, smiling softly.

She responded with a reassuring smile. "Well, that is my plan. Get you to eat a bit and get you out of his mood. Because I really am worried about you."

She grabbed two shot glasses from the cabinet to the left of the stove, a small bowl with cutup lime segments and the tequila bottle.

She placed everything on the table and sat across from Crane.

"What is this?" He asked.

"Ever done shots before?"

"Shots? Um, no, unless it somehow involved a firearm." He studied the bottle intently. "Tequila? What is that?"

"It's a type of liquor. Made from the agave plant. It's like a cactus plant. It was originally made in Mexico and is very very good."

Crane looked intrigued. "Lovely colour." he said, commenting on the golden yellow hue of the liquid.

"It's unique tasting but really nice." Abbie said as she filled each small glass. "I'm going to teach you to do a traditional Tequila shot."

Crane's brow raised a little in interest, but he made no comment.

Abbie grabbed the salt shaker that was already at the table in one hand and a lime wedge with the other. Without a word, she demonstrated.

_Lick back of hand. Sprinkle salt on top. Lick salt. Down shot. Suck on lime._

Abbie shook her head. "Whew..." she breathed out then smiled brightly, "Tequila shot."

Crane's eyebrow arched even higher as he cocked his head a bit, a devious grin appearing on his face.

"See, you're smiling already." she said cheerfully. "Now your turn."

Crane carefully slid his shot glass closer. Abbie nodded her head in encouragement.

He followed suit. He gave a small lick to the back of his hand and sprinkled some salt on top. He hesitantly licked, causing his face to screw up from the salt. Quickly, he downed the tequila, then shoved a lime wedge in his mouth, his face puckering up even more from the tartness of the juice.

"Good?"

He rasped out, "Good."

Abbie refilled the glasses and this time, they both took the shot at the same time. Crane shuddered a bit when he did. Abbie just enjoyed the warmth trickling down her belly.

"Miss Mills, are you trying to get me inebriated?" he asked, voice still a bit hoarse.

"Pretty much." she replied with a grin. She rose from the table and went back to the stove. "Don't drink too much right now. Your stomach is empty - that tequila is going to hit you like a ton of bricks in a few minutes." she cautioned.

"Whatever you are preparing smells wonderful." he commented.

"Spaghetti and meatballs. Don't worry, you'll like it."

Crane just nodded, clearly not knowing what spaghetti was.

..........................................

When Abbie set the pasta plate in front of Ichabod, he looked intrigued, "May I inquire as to the origins of this red sauce?"

"Tomato sauce."

"Tomato!" In his prominent English accent, the pronunciation came out as _Toe-Mah-Toe._ "Are you serious? It is poisonous!"

Abbie shook her head and flashed him a sad yet knowing smile. "Sorry Crane, but tomatoes are not poisonous."

"Really?"

"Really. I read up on the history. For you. Apparently some guy decided to show the public that tomatoes were okay. Sometime in the late 1800's. He ate a whole bushel of tomatoes and was perfectly fine after."

"My word."

"Now tomatoes seem to appear in a lot of foods." Abbie said.

It seemed that Crane trusted her word, because he soon tucked into the pasta plate with hearty relish. "This is excellent!" he exclaimed through mouthfuls of spaghetti, making Abbie almost choke on her own food in laughter. He was eating like a starved man, which essentially, he was. Two plate refills later and he finally put down his fork.

"I do not think I can consume another bite." he declared.

She laughed, "That's good because there's nothing left. You ate everything."

He looked at her with wide eyes, actual worry on his face. "I did not cause you to be denied seconds. Please tell me I did not?" 

"God no! Are you kidding? One plate was enough for me. I can't believe you ate the rest." she grinned. "Well, yes I can."

As Ichabod rose to clear the table, Abbie once again held her hand out. "No sit, relax. You look like you can't move anyway." 

He sighed contentedly, then slumped back down in his seat, his hand resting on his stomach. Maybe it was the wine. It was most definitely the heavy meal, but Abbie had to laugh at a sleepy looking, mellow, overstuffed Ichabod Crane.

"Feeling better?"

"Much. Not light headed anymore."

"That's because you didn't eat for a while. Low blood sugar." She got up from the table and cleared away the dishes, having decided to clean them later, then refilled both of their glasses with wine. The first bottle of white already sat empty on the countertop. For variety, she broke into the red.

Abbie settled back down at the table, opposite from Ichabod and decided this was the best time for her to address this. Abbie recognized that Crane was in the fourth stage of grief - _depression._ She had helped him through the first three. They had passed the halfway point. There was only one more hurdle to jump through before he would finally find his Acceptance.

She stared at him intently, causing him to shift uncomfortably in his seat. "This can't go on, you know?" she said, her voice serious, the wine making her lips loose.

Crane let out a long suffering sigh, clearly knowing full well what Abbie meant. "I know, Miss Mills. I realize that. I just...my emotions seem to be getting the better of me."

"I am sorry to be blunt and honest but you need the truth. You cannot let one person affect you like this." she took another sip of wine, steeling herself for what she would say. "I know she is the love of your life. I know she is your wife, but you are not the only one who has ever lost anyone before. It takes time to get over a loved one, I get that. But you cannot let it destroy you. And it _is_ destroying you."

She studied him, watching while he thoughtfully chewed his lower lip as he reflected on her words. 

After a long moment of silence, he spoke. "I know Lieutenant. You are correct. I am allowing my heart, my emotions to overwhelm logic and reason. I just seem to not be able to control myself."

"You have every right to be upset. I get that. But sometimes you have to accept the loss and realize that things happen for a reason."

Ichabod locked his eyes with Abbie for a minute more before letting out a bitter laugh. "I have fought years in a brutal war, watched family and close friends die horrifically. I have killed many a man in battle, with a sword, with a gun, even my bare hands. I have been buried for 232 years, essentially dead, and have woken into an era I have no understanding of. We have fought demons and all manner of evil together. By now, I should have descended into madness." he paused for a moment, shaking his head at the irony, "and yet is it a lone woman who has caused me the most insanity."

Abbie gave him a sad smile while she patted his hand. "Most of those events, you haven't had much of a choice. But you have the choice to let her affect you like this. You have the choice to not allow yourself to go insane, so to speak."

"I have let Katrina affect me for the worse." he took a deep breath, his fingers fiddling with the stem of his wine glass. "But Miss Mills, you have affected me for the better." he smiled at her now. "I will be forever thankful for the support you have provided for me throughout my ordeal.” He paused as his mouth curled into a small smile. “I believe your exact words were ‘tough love’."

Abbie nodded, a self-satisfied look on her face. "Sometimes we have to get tough with those we really care for."

"And I am most grateful for your 'tough love'."

"Good, but remember, I actually went easy on you. If I really wanted to, I could make you suffer." she said, 

He ran his hand over his face now, lightly rubbing his forehead. "Considering the amount of alcohol I have already consumed, I feel I will be suffering later this evening."

Abbie grinned and raised her wine glass in a mock toast. "I'm counting on it."

.............................................

 

Abbie cleared the kitchen while Ichabod lit a fire in the large stone fireplace. It was cozy in the cabin, warm and comfortable. She was glad she decided to be brutally honest with Crane. He needed the truth and he seemed to accept and understand completely.

They spend the rest of the evening playing various card games. Crane taught her an old card game he used to play called Faro, while Abbie taught him Gin rummy and Texas hold 'em poker. They both enjoyed poker the most and Ichabod turned out to be quite a card shark. She had no idea how, but he was always able to come up with the winning hand or would fold whenever Abbie's own cards were strong. He had won all of her poker chips and demanded she down two more tequila shots in lieu of money to bet with. 

It turned out Ichabod had figured out her _tell_ quite quickly and early on in the game.

"Remember I once told you that you were easier to read than a Vigenère cipher?" he teased, a small smirk on his face. "You bite your bottom lip very slightly and very delicately, Lieutenant." he finally explained, his eyes glittering. "I have spent much of this game studying your mouth for this particular tell."

Abbie thought she had discovered Ichabod's own tell - a slight quirk of his _other_ eyebrow, the left one that rarely seemed to arch - but it turned out he was doing it deliberately just to mess with her. She was thoroughly annoyed by this and forced Crane to do three Tequila shots in retribution.

By eleven that night, the third bottle of wine was also empty and Abbie was really feeling it. She was sure Crane was feeling it too. He was wobbling as he moved around the cabin, periodically grabbing onto the wall for support. His cheeks were flushed red and for most of the night, he had a goofy yet playful smile on his face.

Abbie herself was now lying on her back on the couch that stood in front of the fireplace. She had a blanket spread over her and was trying to focus on the wooden beams that supported the ceiling with no luck. She knew she was going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow because right now, she was positively drunk.

"Crane! Crane, where are you?" she slurred.

"Here...right here...."A long arm shot up at the side of the couch. His hand clumsily patted her shoulder several times before thudding back onto the floor. "Wait,..how, why are you up in the air..... _are you floating?_ "

"How'd you get down there?" she asked surprised, while glancing down to the floor from the couch. Crane was lying flat on his back on the wooden floor, head propped on a long narrow pillow, long limbs spread-eagle. His tall frame took up most of the space between the couch and the roaring fire.

Abbie now giggled. "Crane.... _Craaanneee_.... You're a bird....biiirrdd...." she drawled.

"I do not have _feathers_...." he said indignantly while slurring his own words. 

"You look like a Crane....long legs....long beak..." she now rolled onto her side and dropped her arm off of the couch, giggling as she attempted to tap his nose with her hand. She missed each time, instead clumsily patting his bristled chin.

"I have no beak. I have no feathers..... _Have I been plucked?....my god..._ " he sounded genuinely horrified.

" _Pluck...pluck.._." Abbie echoed as she burst out laughing again and started lightly pulling at the hairs on his chin.

"I have not been plucked... Because I am flying, Abbie!...because the room is swirling....Abbie, oh god....make the room stop swirling..." he groaned loudly.

Abbie kicked the blanket off and leaned further forward, almost hanging off of the couch, still trying to tap his nose. As she stretched out, she lost her balance and fell off, landing right on top Crane's prone form. They both groaned and giggled at the same time.

Because he took up so much of the floor between fireplace and couch, Abbie landed right on top of his body. "Sorry, sorry" she mumbled as she awkwardly tried to crawl off of him. Instead, he brought his arm up around her waist and somehow entangled his legs with hers.

"You must stay." he whispered somewhat incoherently. He let out a contented sigh. "I think you've made the room stop swirling. Stay."

Abbie had no energy to argue. Instead she shifted her body so that she was lying astride him, fully embraced in his arms. She tucked her head into the crook of his neck and shoulders and bent her leg up to rest on top of his hips.

He had clumsily yanked the long narrow pillow he was lying on from under his head, positioning it at his shoulder, so that Abbie could share it with him. Crane was still on his back, stretched out, and Abbie felt him wriggle a bit. This little motion suddenly made her feel as though she was perfectly snuggled into his entire body.

 _This feels so nice,_ she sighed to herself. It felt warm and safe being in his firm arms. In the back of her not-so-sober mind, she knew the alcohol was mostly responsible for the two of them being close like this, but she just didn't care. It was nice to lie like this. To be like this. With him.

She closed her eyes and just allowed herself to relax and enjoy his radiating warmth. She loved the feeling of being pressed up - and pressing up - against his lean firm body. She and Ichabod were like two puzzle pieces that slotted perfectly together; legs and arms, hips and torso. 

They lay there in each other’s arms for almost two hours, eyes closed, completely silent, lightly dozing on and off in front of the roaring fire. She felt cozy and content and over those hours, slowly started to sober up.  
...................... 

Abbie eyes fluttered open and she quickly looked around, in a bit of a panic, not sure where she was or who was lying next to her. Propping herself up a bit, it took a moment for her to remember that she was in the cabin and had spent the night drinking with Crane. The clock on the fireplace mantel told her it was one thirty in the morning. She didn’t feel as drunk as before, but she still had a nice buzz going.

She felt a warm hand lightly stroking her arm and she looked down to see Ichabod Crane’s handsome form lying next to her. His eyes were closed and he had a relaxed smile on his face. Loose hairs framed his face, and Abbie tucked the silky strands behind his ear before snuggling back into the crook of his neck and shoulder.

"Crane?"

"Hmmm..."

"Are you glad that we ended up being Witnesses together?" The question came out of her mouth before she knew it. _Damn wine._ Thought she felt a bit sobered up, her inhibitions were still almost non-existent.

Crane paused for a moment, his hand now lightly rubbing her lower back. "Though Biblical Witness is not my preferred occupation, to share this endeavour with someone as strong, intelligent, remarkable...and as lovely as yourself...I am truly blessed." He turned his head a little to kiss her forehead. Ichabod seemed to have sobered up a bit also; his words were clear and intelligible.

"You're just saying that because you're drunk."

"I may be inebriated, yes. But that inevitably makes ones' own feelings more truthful.

"True..." She let her hand run up and down his chest, savouring the warmth of his skin and lean muscles under her fingers. She could feel his scar through the thin material of his shirt. As she moved her fingers along his side, she could also feel his ribs, and she gently tracing around them one by one.

"Are you contented with me?" he now asked, his voice low and soft. His hand continued to stroke her back, while his other hand moved to rest on his belly so that he could caress her hand.

"I could've done worse." she teased while squeezing him with her arm and leg that was currently draped over him. In response, he grabbed her hand and lightly bit her wrist, before brushing his lips over the soft skin.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Exhausted. The room has finally stopped its incessant swirling." He paused, letting out a long exhale. "I think that consuming three bottles of wine was not very prudent on our part."

"Don't forget the Tequila shots."

"Lick hand. Pour salt. Drink shot. Suck lime." he instructed, demonstrating steps one and four on her wrist while she giggled lightly. 

They lay there for another ten minutes in silence, until Abbie felt a wave of exhaustion crash over her. She glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Crane...it's almost three in the morning...We really should try to get some sleep. I really want to sleep." 

"Mmm...yes...slumber." he mumbled. "I have grown quite tired also." She could feel the arms of her matching puzzle piece growing slack around her body.

She managed to disentangle herself from his long limbs, drag herself off of the floor and stumble to the fridge. Thought Crane would hate it, she pulled out two large bottles of water. He would thank her when he woke up in the morning with a nasty hangover and desperate for water to parch his thirst. Weaving her way back, she found Crane already passed out and lightly snoring. She carefully stepped over his splayed out form, set both bottles on the floor, and collapsed onto the couch, pulling the blanket over her.

Abbie looked back up at the ceiling and reflected on the evening. 

It seemed that her evening was a success. Her plan to get him to eat, drink and hopefully be merry worked. Her heart to heart with him hopefully had an impact. The casualness in which they simply enjoyed each other's company with no mention of evil demon fighting was a revelation.

What she didn't expect was to be lying in his arms, as though with a lover, just _being_ together. It was scary how perfect and natural it all seemed. She still had a buzz going but knew she would remember everything in the morning. She just wondering if he would and how he would respond and react.

Abbie turned her head and looked down at a sleeping Ichabod. He looked peaceful, contented, almost angelic, a small smile quirking at the corner of his mouth. 

Yes, everything about being with him...it was just _right._

Abbie turned her head back, closed her eyes and almost immediately fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I just really would love to see these two completely wasted!
> 
> For those who don't play poker or know any poker terminology. A tell in poker is a change in a player's behavior or demeanor that give clues to that player's assessment of their hand.
> 
> Chapter updated after my lovely Beta's comments!
> 
> Comments and kudos much appreciated.


	6. Acceptance - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crane and Abbie fight off some vile demons along with the White Coven.
> 
> \----------------------------------------

**Acceptance - Part 1**

_Forested area, near deserted country road, somewhere in Sleepy Hollow, middle of the night_

Abbie dug her heels down into the mossy ground, extended her arms completely forward and emptied her clip into the demon. At the final shot, the grotesque figure exploded; a flash of light followed by guts and debris flying in all directions. Abbie shielded her face for a moment, then looked around in panic.

"Crane!" she yelled out.

A hand touched her back, and Abbie whipped around to see Ichabod Crane standing behind her, his own gun extended in his hand.

"Miss Mills, are you okay?" he asked, his own face mirroring her apprehension.

"Yeah, I'm fine." she replied, calmer now that she had found him. She took in his current state. His clothing and coat was covered with grime and what looked like blood. His forehead and cheeks, like his hands, were streaked with dirt. She imagined she looked as bad as he did. "You?" she asked him.

"Just fine." He grabbed her sleeve now. "The Coven is ahead, fighting off the last of the demons. We must assist."

"Do you need another clip?' she asked, as she motioned to his gun. He nodded. She handed him the ammunition, then quickly reloaded her own gun. It was the last two clips she had. Each bullet needed to count.

Crane grabbed her arm and both ran towards the large expanse of forest ahead. 

It was one month since the drunken evening she had spent with Ichabod, and for that month, everything had been deceptively quiet. Rumours of a demon attack periodically filtered out around Sleepy Hollow but nothing ever came of them. But for that entire month, Abbie and Ichabod were on edge, trying to figure out how and when this attack would occur, desperately searching for clues or hints or anything that might tip them off to the inevitable attack.

They had even taken the time to meet up with the White Coven twice a week to plan and discuss how to deal with the newest batch of demons. These meetings typically included the leader Aldus, disciple Katrina, two other various coven members, Abbie and Crane. 

The first meeting with the coven occurred about one week after her and Crane's drunken evening and hangover recovery. Abbie fully expected Ichabod to fall into another depression, but was utterly surprised when he managed to weather the encounter. He was slightly melancholy the day after, she noticed, but back to normal in no time. 

It was getting easier and easier to work with the White Coven and especially, to work with Katrina.

It was the Coven that had tipped them off earlier this evening. A full moon, the half-way point between Winter and Summer equinox, the appearance of Mars and Jupiter in the sky, and the particular date all apparently conveniently aligned properly today, allowing Moloch to unleash what Abbie thought were the most hideous, frightening and repulsive demons she had ever encountered.

The band of minions they had encountered before in the tunnels under Sleepy Hollow, when they had captured the Headless Horseman was nothing. One or two bullets into those shadowy figures and they would explode into dust. 

That was nothing compared to the thirty they were up against at present. 

The creatures they were fighting now were putrid, rotting, stinking human-like demons that required a bullet straight into the forehead to kill. If demons could be turned into agile decomposing zombies, these were it. They were tall, at least seven feet, long claws curling from their fingers and feet, noses elongated into snouts that bared razor sharp teeth, flesh literally crawling with maggots. But unlike zombies, they were very quick and very powerful.

When shot in the head, they emitted a flash of bright light and then exploded, sending rotting, mucus covered chunks of evil flesh everywhere. It was a good thing Abbie had a strong stomach; these things were absolutely vile and disgusting. 

She, Crane and four members of the coven had managed to dispatch most of the unleashed herd of thirty at the present. Only a few were left to kill.

Abbie and Crane entered the forest edge and quickly headed for the flashes of light and explosions they could see illuminating the trees in the distance. Fifty meters later, they entered into a clearing and came upon the four members of the White Coven in full battle with the remaining five demons. They stopped at the edge of the clearing, taking in the scene, determining how to best approach it.

"Crane, that's the last clip - don't waste it." she said.

He nodded, hand still gripping her arm. He squeezed in reassurance. "How shall we attack these creatures?"

Abbie surveyed the scene. Katrina was situated on one side of the clearing, fighting off one demon, Aldus on the other side. Two other coven members, Ruby and Albert, were standing side by side, near the back of the open space, their paired magic fighting off two more demons simultaneously.

Flashes of coloured light filled the area, as one magical spell after another flew out from the witches and warlocks outstretched arms and aimed towards the various demonic forms.

A fifth demon was lying on the ground closer to Aldus. It looked as though it were incapacitated, but Abbie could see that it was breathing heavily. She needed to keep an eye on that one.

"Crane, you're a good shot. Go over there, take out the one fighting Katrina. I'll take out the other one." She said, pointed towards Aldus. He nodded to her and carefully stalked over towards Katrina to dispatch the foul rotting thing.

Abbie did the same, stalking along the edge of the clearing in the opposite direction of Crane, careful not to attract the demons' attention. She had her gun ready and steady, held out in front of her, waiting for the best moment to take the head shot. She watched as Aldus was casting various spells, effectively pushing the demon further and further back towards the tree-lined edge of the clearing. 

The White Coven had warned them before that because of the auspiciousness of this day, it would be much more difficult to contain the demons with magic, as they were so much more powerful. It was days like this that Abbie was so grateful for her police issue Glock.

Right now, that Glock was trained perfectly on the demons' forehead.

She watched as Aldus raised his arms high and with a violent flick, sent a particularly effective spell towards the disgusting thing, causing it to be blown back and hit the ground in a heap. A few seconds had passed before it managed to sit up. When it did, Abbie fired. The bullet went clean through the forehead; the creature exploded, sending bits and pieces of slimy demon flesh high up into the air.

Aldus turned toward Abbie, flashed a grateful smile and nod and then ran to assist Albert and Ruby, who had not yet dispatched the other two demons. She quickly headed back towards Ichabod. 

Katrina was sending her own violent spells towards the demon. Abbie glanced over to the left to see Ichabod still standing at the opposite edge of the forest, gun trained towards the putrid creature, waiting to take a clean shot.

Abbie could see that he had to wait to fire. The demon was closer to Katrina but Al and Ruby were only ten feet to the right of the demon Katrina was fighting, and wavering dangerously back and forth as they continued to battle their own two demons. If Ichabod took a shot and missed, the bullet might hit one of the other coven members.

"Katrina, you must permit the creature to move closer to you!" he yelled out. 

At the sound of his words, the demon whipped itself around and started towards Ichabod, giving him a clean shot. Katrina let out another spell, hitting it directly in the heart. It stopped as though it had violently hit a wall and struggled in place, as though its arms were shackled to its sides by chains. With a completely clear shot, Ichabod fired.

It took two rounds, but the second one hit on target and the demon exploded in a flash of light and spattered guts. Both Katrina and Ichabod shielded themselves from the blast.

Abbie sighed with relief as she quickly surveyed the scene. Aldus and the other two coven members had also managed to dispatch the final two demons. Everyone was standing in place, exhausted from the battle. 

The battle they had won.

The scene was finally quiet, the stench of burnt rotting flesh heavy in the air, the open space now only illuminated by the full bright moon. Abbie staggered exhaustedly towards Crane and Katrina.

"I think we got 'em all." she yelled out with a satisfied smile. Katrina smiled back, her body also slumping a little from the effort. 

She looked at Ichabod now, who looked even more exhausted and filthy than before.

_Then she remembered._

_The fifth demon that had been lying on the ground._

Abbie was not ten feet from Ichabod when she saw his eyes quickly shift to the right, to the trees thickly lining the open space of the clearing where they had entered. His eyes widened, his face contorted into panic and he took several long quick strides towards her, lunging when he finally reached within two feet of her.

"Demon!" He yelled out and launched his body onto hers, pulling Abbie to the ground and using himself as a shield, covered her body with his own.

At the exact same time, the unseen demon launched itself off the ground in one fluid motion, aiming directly at Abbie, but Ichabod got there first, causing the demon to fly past them and hit the ground a few feet away with a loud thud.

With a violent motion, Ichabod deliberately rolled them several times away from the demon, the force causing Abbie to lose her grip on her Glock. When they finally stopped, she saw the gun was lying not three feet from them near her head, but she was pinned under Ichabod, on the spongy forest floor, her arms entangled in his folds of his coat and could not reach it.

It was the same demon that Abbie saw incapacitated on the ground near Aldus a few minutes ago. She cursed herself for momentarily forgetting about it.

"Katrina! Aldus!" Ichabod yelled out now. Both witch and warlock simultaneously launched spells at the demon as they ran over to assist. They both moved to about ten feet from the demon and fired off another combined spell. This time, they missed and the demon staggered back onto its clawed feet, now only two meters from Abbie and Ichabod.

Ichabod raised himself off of Abbie's body quickly, his legs positioned on either side of her waist, knees digging into the soft ground. His blue eyes locked with the creature's foul yellow ones and Ichabod felt his stomach clench. The evil monster had him and Abbie right where it wanted them. It bared its rotted teeth, its foul lips curling into a sinister smile, saliva dripping from its mouth as it prepared to attack.

He glanced around quickly, spotted her Glock and lunged forward, managing to grab the handle of the gun with his long arm. He immediately sat up, knees still straddling Abbie's waist, took aim and fired one shot. Immediately, he dropped over Abbie's form again, draping himself over her to provide a barrier against the imminent blast.

Abbie closed her eyes and pushed her face into his chest, as he pressed his own forehead into the ground, his arms cradling her head. His body lay over hers almost completely, his thick yet slightly tattered long coat draping over her sides almost completely. Only her left leg was exposed.

She felt the explosion though; felt is as though she were in the middle of it. The close proximity to the demon put her and Ichabod almost next to the exploding creature. She could hear the sounds of the rancid flesh splattering onto the ground all around them and felt Ichabod's whole body tense as his back and legs were pounded by the debris. It made a sickening sound as it fell and covered the area around them almost completely in charred rotten demon flesh. 

She didn't know how long they lay there like that, Ichabod's back slightly arched, careful not to crush her, his arms encircled around Abbie's head, protecting her, his own head tucked into the ground. He covered her almost completely, as though he were her own personal suit of armour.

After a while, he raised his head, glanced around at the scene, then looked down at her closed eyes.

"Abbie, wake please! _Abbie_!"

_…to be continued…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I may have been watched some Walking Dead prior to writing his chapter...because at some point, Crane and Abbie have to fight off some disgusting zombie-demons, right?
> 
> Thank you to everyone who is reading, kudo-ing and commenting! Much appreciated!  
> Comments and Kudo's are the best!


	7. Acceptance - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crane and Abbie deal with the aftermath of their demon battle and her injuries.  
> Katrina and Ichabod have a conversation that provides some closure yet allows him to open his mind and heart.
> 
> Light and serious moments combined, along with some cute Ichabbie.

**Acceptance - Part 2**

 

"Abbie, wake please! _Abbie!_ "

Abbie's eyes quickly fluttered open to see Crane visage hovering over her, panicky worry all over his face. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice cracking a little.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." she said, flashing him a quick smile.

Ichabod gently pulled himself off of Abbie's body with a relieved sigh and knelt by her side. He sat back on his heels, his body slumping a little and stared at her, concern still etched on his face.

After a moment, Abbie herself slowly sat up, aided by Ichabod's arm at her side, and looked around at the scene. All around them, there was a thin layer of reddish pink mucus-like demon slime. She could see small chunks of what looked like barbequed ground meat scattered all around them and the stench was sickening; it smelt like a combination of charred beef and rotting strawberries.

Never was she more grateful that Crane was wearing his beloved ancient coat. The long thick woolen material had protected them from the majority of the fallout. Looking back at Crane, she spied some wet tissue and blood clinging to his hair and boots, but for the most part, his coat had protected both of them like a thick blanket.

"You have guts in your hair." she said, grinning at him as she flicked a particularly large chunk from the top.

"That is truly disgusting, Abbie." he chuckled, then paused as he looked around again. Aldus and Katrina were now hurrying over to their side. 

"Are you two okay?" Aldus asked once they reached Crane and Abbie. His hands clasped together as though in prayer.

"The demon missed Miss Mills by no more than a foot!" Katrina exclaimed. 'Ichabod, you saved her life." 

Ichabod sighed, attempting to run his hand through his tangled and matted hair. 'I am just glad I noticed the demon in time." he said, feeling utterly exhausted.

“Looks like you two probably need a few minutes, but we were hoping we could have a moment to talk with you, preferably at your car. We just need our own minutes with Al and Ruby." Aldus said. 'We would really appreciate that."

Abbie and Ichabod nodded at the same time, then Aldus and Katrina turned and hurried back to the far end of the forest cleaning.

"I am sorry for throwing you to the ground as I did." Ichabod said apologetically. "I pray I did not hurt you."

“No worries, Crane. I'm fine. You saved my life." Abbie lightly touched his arm. "I knew I should've kept my eyes on that demon." she grumbled, shaking her head.

"No matter. It's over now. Can you move?" he placed his hand on her elbow in order to help her get up from the mossy forest floor.

"Yeah, I think I can." she started to say, then let out a loud groan as she shifted her legs to stand up.

Ichabod's eyes moved over her body and quickly realized what was making her groan. "Abbie, you're leg...oh my word..." he trailed off, his voice completely anguished. 

From her upper thigh to just below her knee, the outer part of the pant leg was missing, the edges of material that were left were blackened and crusted with a reddish brown substance. Her smooth dark skin looked like it has burned a little and was red and raw, but was hard to tell; her exposed skin was covered with more of the brownish gel-like material that masked most of the exposed area. Ichabod was sure it was a combination of burnt demon flesh and blistered Abbie skin but he knew she needed to be examined to be sure. 

He realized that this was the only part of Abbie that must have been exposed when the demon exploded. "Abbie, you need to get medical treatment. I think you may have serious burns on your leg."

She looked down at her thigh and gently prodded the area with her forefingers, groaning a little in pain as she did. "Christ....."

"Abbie, this is serious. We must attend to a hospital."

Abbie gingerly prodded the area again and then shook her head. "No, it's not that bad." she said. "Besides, you know how much I hate hospitals." She gently poked around her leg again and saw that some thick mucus-like material came off onto her fingers. She brought it up to her face and examined it carefully, realizing with a grimace that it was 'leftovers' from the exploding demon. She had some burns yes, but they were not very bad. Her skin was red, blistered and raw but would not require hospital care.

Thank god, because Abbie hated hospitals. "No hospitals." she said. "Crane, can you help me up?"

Crane slid one arm around Abbie's waist, steadying her as she stood up. She positioned her arm around his own waist, using him as an anchor to help herself stand. She took a few slow steps, and then felt her ankle completely give out. She stumbled and was only saved from falling to the ground by Crane's sure grip.

"Abbie, are you alright!" he exclaimed.

She took another tentative step with her left leg, and this time, yelped a bit in pain. She felt as if needles were stabbing her all along her entire ankle and it hurt like hell. She had no strength in it at all; she could barely put any of her weight on her left leg. It must have happened when they were rolling out of the way of the demon's attack. 

"Dammit....I think I twisted my ankle." she tentatively tried circling her foot around, instead grimacing again at the sharp pain that shot through her leg instead.

"I did cause you injury..." Ichabod looked mortified. "Abbie, I am so sorry."

"Crane, it’s okay, don't worry. Better than being attacked by a demon, right?" Ignoring the throbbing pain, she lifted her leg up a bit and repositioned her grip on Crane. She ignored the look her shot her, begging her to take her injury seriously. "Here, help me hop."

Ichabod crouched down to allow her to grasp his shoulders for support. He tightened his grip around her waist, so as to lift her a little and help her along. Ichabod could see her wincing with each step.

They took a few more steps then she stopped. "I can't walk like this." she groaned, leg still lifted in the air. "Every time we move, my leg swings too much, the ankle twists a bit and it hurts like hell."

"We must get you some treatment immediately." he repeated, his tone more forceful.

"No way, I'm not going to a hospital. You know I hate them just like you hate them. I just need to get home, get it elevated and get a tensor bandage on, okay?" She said.

"Abbie...?" 

_"No hospitals, Crane."_

" _Fine._ Then I will have no choice but to carry you to your vehicle." he firmly declared. Before she could protest, Crane shifted his arms, positioning one behind her knees and one across her back and easily hoisted her up.

"What are you doing?" she exclaimed as she slipped her own arms around his neck, under the collar of his coat for support.

"It is much easier for me to take you to the car in this fashion, then to allow you to _hop_ , so that you do not further endanger your ankle." he surmised, then paused as he flashed her a teasing smile. "It is good that you are so little - easy to carry."

"Very funny." she said but also smiled. She tightened her grip around his neck and looked deep into his eyes as he walked, him carrying her as though she was a light as a feather, careful not to jostle her too much. Abbie laughed a little to herself. The view seemed high in the air for Abbie; not surprising considering Crane towered over six feet.

"Thanks Crane." she said softly as they made their way to her car.

"For what?"

"For what? For saving my life! You pulled me out of the demon’s path and shielded me from the blast. Who knows how much worse this might be."

The corners of his mouth curled into an almost embarrassed smile. "You know that I would do anything for you. You are my partner. We have been through so much. I expect you would do the same for me."

"Yeah, but I wouldn't be so effective, since I'm not a towering human tree." She teased.

"I'm not exceeding tall for this time."

"To me you are."

After a moment, he replied, "And may my 'branches' always be ready to protect you." A contented, serene smile appeared on his face.

She studied his face as he carefully continued towards the car, seemingly without any effort at all. "Thank you." she repeated again and then added with a gruff tone, "I'm not going to say it again."

They arrived at her Jeep and Ichabod gently set her down in front of the driver side door.  
As Abbie fumbled for the keys in the zippered pocket of her fleece sweater, Ichabod slid his demon-flesh splattered coat from his shoulders, carefully folded it inside out and shoved it into a large plastic shopping bag that Abbie had balled up in the trunk of her car. He had moved back towards Abbie's side when they both heard the sound of someone loudly clearing their throat.

They both whipped around to see Katrina and Aldus standing next to Abbie's car, both wearing sheepish looks in their face.

"Katrina! Aldus! Our apologies, we did not even see you!" Ichabod exclaimed. Abbie and Ichabod both hadn't even noticed the witch and warlock following behind them.

"Sorry for the scare. We Coven members tend to walk with soft shoes." Aldus joked. The tall stocky man now extended his hand out towards Abbie and Ichabod. "Thank you for giving us some time. The White Coven, and myself personally, cannot extend enough of our gratitude for everything you have done. It takes a strong yet special soul to fight as you two have against such evil. I do not want to sound dismissive or patronizing, but to fight as you two have, without any sort of magical ability, is without precedent and quite brave." He smiled now as he in turn shook Abbie and Ichabod's hand in thanks.

"Hey, no thanks needed. You guys are the ones who managed to hold off the demons and slow them down enough." Abbie said, as she balanced herself against the side of her car, her left leg slightly bent and foot hovering over the ground. "All Crane and I did was shoot a gun."

"The demons were far more powerful than we thought. Without your help, I daresay our attempts would not have been successful." Katrina said. "We are truly grateful."

"Truly grateful." Aldus echoed.

"Not a problem at all. Anytime." Abbie said. "I guess as Witnesses, that's our job now." she said, while quickly patting Ichabod's arm to indicate her partner.

"It was our pleasure." Ichabod said.

"I shall take my leave of you now." Aldus said while flashing a discreet yet pointed look toward Katrina. 

"Ichabod, may I have a word, please?" Katrina now asked kindly.

Ichabod looked at her for a moment, contemplating whether he really wanted to speak with her at this time. Abbie was hurt; he didn't want to even spare a moment's time delaying treatment.

"Katrina, Abigail needs care for her leg. We have little time to spare." he said, his voice slightly stern.

Katrina looked over to Abbie, her expression almost pleading. "Can you please, Miss Mills, spare us but a moment? It is very important. I would be most thankful."

Abbie looked at Crane, who noncommittally shrugged his shoulders. "Sure.’ She replied. “Crane, I can wait a few minutes. Don't worry, I'll be fine." She flashed him a reassuring smile. Her leg actually felt okay, as long as she didn't move it too much. Abbie could sense that Crane was conflicted yet annoyed at Katrina's untimely intrusion. "Don't worry. Go talk." she reiterated, slightly prodding him towards his wife.

Crane, before addressing Katrina, opened the car door for Abbie and helped her climb into the driver's seat, mindful of her ankle and the burns on her thigh. Once Abbie was settled to his satisfaction, he turned to his wife. "Yes, Katrina. What would you like to discuss." he asked politely, trying to hide the exhaustion from his voice.

Katrina glanced over at Abbie, then back at Ichabod, and could see that she would not get any privacy. She decided that it didn't matter - she could say what she needed with Miss Mills present.

"You seem to be doing well." Katrina started, not quite sure how she would proceed.

"I am quite well.' Ichabod glanced down at his clothing, covered in dirt and blood, and just shrugged. "Considering our recent activities." He smiled sheepishly at his wife.

"You and Miss Mills work quite well together." she commented, her tone neutral yet pleasant. Katrina glanced past Ichabod to see that Abbie was staring at the ground, pretending that she wasn't trying to listen to the conversation. "She is quite the amazing woman."

"Yes...she is quite...extraordinary." Ichabod replied hesitantly. Now he was the one who was not quite sure where the conversation was going.

Katrina took a step forward and lowered her voice a little. 'I am sorry for all of the pain I have caused you." she said sadly. "It was not my intention for our relationship to have come to this." she sighed, 'It is but a fact that much has changed over the last..."

"Two hundred years?" Ichabod supplied, his voice calm.

"Two hundred years, yes. During that time, things had changed." Katrina now raised her hand and covered her mouth, in an attempt to quell her tears. "I did not want to hurt you. I never wanted to cause you hurt, my husband."

Ichabod stepped forward and took his wife's hand in his. "Katrina, my love. I have spent the last few months pondering our situation, our life together and everything that has happened in our lives. Trying in desperation to understand what has become of us. It has not been easy for me, I must confess."

"Has Miss Mills provided support?" She asked, calmer yet almost hopeful. The question seemed loaded, yet there was no jealousy in her tone. Instead, Katrina's question almost seemed as though she fully understood the nature and current relationship between the two Witnesses.

"She has assisted me in my struggles, yes."

"Ichabod, my love, you must understand, come to the conclusion that I long ago have. Our time was in the past. We are of the past. We were most in love and it was good and pure and happy. Our life together was most wonderful. But our time was then. It is not destined to be for the here and now."

Ichabod contemplated this for a few moments. "I have always considered our love pure, sacred, as Shakespeare or Donne hath written odes and sonnets to, its beauty unable to be replicated."

"It was a sweet love." she replied. "But it is not for the modern times. We are not meant to live a life together in this time. I know my path, Ichabod, just as I know yours. I have had visions and premonitions. Some before we met, some during our marriage, during my time in Purgatory and after my rescue."

"You are able to foresee the future?" he asked, his face registering surprise. "Why have you not told me of this before?"

"My coven did not permit me to reveal these words, Ichabod, not during our time together. We understand that in many cases, the knowledge of ones’ own destiny and ultimate path will undoubtedly influence behaviour. It can be very dangerous to reveal such information."

"But you are revealing this to me now."

"I am. I feel that in this case, it must be revealed. Aldus agrees and has encouraged me to do so."

Ichabod stared at Katrina for a long moment, trying to fully wrap his mind around the situation. He had a million questions swirling in his head, yet couldn't think of anything to ask, except to repeat his previous question. "You have had premonitions of us? In the past and here in this modern era?"

"I have. A witch can see certain aspects of the future, of a man or woman's destiny, especially those we have a close connection with." She paused, glancing over towards Aldus, who was standing near the forest edge, leaning against a tree and staring off into the distance. "Aldus is helping me find my destiny as his disciple. I know my fate. And I have seen yours."

"My fate?" Ichabod narrowed his eyes, his face slightly confused.

"Yours. It is your true destiny, Ichabod." Katrina lowered her voice even more, so that it was now almost a whisper. "You love Miss Mills, do you not?"

Ichabod hesitated, but Katrina seemed to encourage him to answer without reproach. He took a few moments to answer. "I think...I think that I am starting to..." he could not complete the sentence.

"Ichabod, it is fine. I understand. I can see the way you two interact with each other, how you are. I can sense your connection, your deep bond. I truly believe this is your destiny. _I have foreseen it._ Our time was then, in the 1700's and I have no regrets at all. But you and Miss Mills are the here and now. You must embrace this, Ichabod, without regret. It is your time now to make a life with her. Your bond is stronger than you realize. _And it is good._ " She emphasized the final words, ensuring that he understood that she spoke the truth.

He paused for a moment, thoughtfully searching her face for anything that would belay or contradict her words. There was nothing. She seemed at peace, almost happy that she could finally share her thoughts and premonitions with him.

"I have thought this." he admitted. "That my relationship and bond with Abbie is strong and more - the word I can only use is - _real_. It feels real."

Ichabod thought about the word _real._ His growing feelings for Abbie did feel real and genuine and true.

It was something he felt grew stronger each and every day. The more time he spent with Abbie, the most he grew to admire and respect her. He craved her company more and more as they forged an ever strengthening bond. At the same time, though loyal to Katrina, he knew he was growing ever more attracted to Abbie. 

He was almost amused at the irony. He had fallen for his witness partner, slowly and surely, yet without a single occurrence of the traditional courtship rituals and behaviours that he was so accustomed to. None of their relationship was whitewashed by flowery prose, sonnets and odes. There were no courting rituals, cotillions and balls, blushing demure ladies and chivalrous men.

He joked to himself that his "courtship" with Abbie consisted of fighting off demons, underground adventures, law breaking, late nights and near death experiences. There was baseball and skinny jeans, dusty books and fast food, sarcastic looks and alcohol shots, confusing 'intercourse' and 'awful' modern experiences.

And Ichabod cherished every single moment.

He reflected on how he and Abbie argued with each other, teased each other, encouraged each other, supported each other, and wholly trusted each other. How one look between them could convey so much. They would comfortably and easily share their innermost feelings, thoughts, emotions and fears without hesitation. They accepted each other as is; flaws, quirks, twists, temper and all.

And during that time, unbeknownst until recently, Ichabod had slowly started falling for Abbie. He thought back to one month ago, to their drunken evening, when Abbie dragged him out of his depression and provided her ‘tough love’ and ‘tequila shots’." He thought about her lying in his arms, her forehead nestled into his shoulder and warm limbs entangled, how she seemed to meld perfectly into his body. His alcohol-addled mind may have not been clear, but he had one clear thought repeating in his mind all evening. 

_This is wonderful._

And it felt real and in the now and just, _right._ He knew that now. It had taken him time, but he realized that the foundation had been set. The bond between Abbie and himself was strong, stronger than he ever thought could be possible.

Katrina had foreseen this and - of all people - now helped him to understand and fully accept. Surprising to him, Katrina understood his relationship with Abbie better than he had even realized.

He looked back up to Katrina, who patiently waited for his response. Or maybe she was waiting for his realization and acknowledgment of her words.

"I realize now that you speak the truth, Katrina." He turned his head and looked towards the car and Abbie seated within.

His partner was covered in dirt, blood and slimy demon flesh, her long black hair was half pulled out of its ponytail, messy strands falling everywhere. Her left trouser leg was charred and half absent and the soles of her boots were caked in mud and slime. She was currently hunched forward in her car seat, angrily fiddling with her phone while cursing under her breath. 

In Ichabod's eyes and mind, though, she looked absolutely stunning. 

He turned back to Katrina and offered a smile that let her know he fully embraced and had taken heed of her words. “I believe that my fate and destiny await."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I think I inadvertently explained why in the show, Katrina can be so shady with sharing information!  
> Final chapter to close off this fic coming soon. One or two more.
> 
> Again, thanks to everyone for their awesome comments and kudos.
> 
>  _Everytime an author gets a Comment or Kudo, they want to write all the more!!!_ :')


	8. Closure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, finally coming up to the end. I think the next chapter will be the last, depending on how much my brain decided to spit out onto paper. I hope everyone has enjoyed this so far.
> 
> Please enjoy!
> 
> .....................................................................................

**Chapter 8 - Closure**

Abbie shifted slightly in the driver seat as she watched Crane and Katrina deeply hug for a few moments. When Katrina pulled back, she gave him a lingering yet chaste kiss on the cheek. He responded with an extravagant kiss to her hand, which caused Katrina to giggle a little.

"You were never this charming and exuberant before." Katrina commented with a huge grin, loud enough so that Abbie would be sure to hear. "Is this you’re doing, Miss Mills? Ichabod seems to have bloomed from your company.”

"Don't look at me." she held her hands up in innocence. _Okay, that was a weird comment,_ Abbie thought _._ She just stared at Katrina, trying to gauge her facial expression and tone. There was no malice, nor jealousy, nothing to indicate that Katrina was even remotely upset.

Abbie flashed an annoyed and disapproving look towards Crane.

"Apparently in this era, everyone is to be ostentatious." he declared, then turned to Abbie and gave her a deep sweeping bow.

"I have experienced enough in this era that I am sure of it." Katrina said with a knowing smile.

Abbie was taken aback. That little bow from Crane certainly wasn't helping the matter. _What the hell are you doing, Crane!_ She cursed him under her breath while glaring at him, then noticed that Katrina had the biggest grin on her face, as though she was thoroughly amused by Abbie’s reaction.

Abbie’s widened eyes moved from Crane to Katrina and back, utterly perplexed. Did Crane just give her an amazingly sexy bow, right in front of his _wife_? She quickly noted their facial expressions and body language. They both were smiling, calm, relaxed and content. Their voices had been quite low so Abbie didn't catch most of their earlier conversation. She was dying to know what happened and was determined to drill Crane about the details during the drive home.

She had to admit to herself she was a little relieved, though. It seemed that for the first time in a long time, Crane had survived his encounter with his wife and came out so much more positive for it. Hell, if Abbie didn't know any better, she would say that Crane was positively beaming right now.

Now she _really_ wanted to know what the hell Crane and Katrina said to each other.

"Abbie, can you drive?" Ichabod now asked.

"I better be able to, since you obviously can't." she snarked in reply.

"That is because you refuse to teach me." he replied with a mock petulant grumble.

"Crane, you still struggle with the internet and the concept of a microwave. How on earth am I going to let you behind the wheel of a two tonne car?"

"Abbie, I have driven many a large and heavy carriage with eight unruly horses as lead. I am sure I can handle your _vehicle_." he paused, rolling his eyes and letting out a dramatic sigh of exasperation.

"Yeah, okay, but that carriage only had eight horsepower. I'm not sure you could handle this car, which has over _two hundred_ horsepower." she said with a smirk. "It might be way too much for you." her grin grew wider.

"Which is why you need to teach me." he replied back with his own smile. "This is what I have to put up with." Ichabod sighed to Katrina, who laughed.

"What _you_ have to put up with?" she replied, rolling her eyes. "Besides, I don't think your tree-like form could _fit_ behind the wheel of this car."

"But at least I can reach the pedals from afar."

Abbie just glared at him now, her narrowed eyes shooting daggers.

Ichabod now repeated his query again, this time in a softer more serious tone, "Are you okay to drive, Abbie?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Crane. It's my left leg that's hurts. I need my right leg to drive, and that leg is fine."

Katrina smiled contentedly, amused at the banter between Miss Mills and her husband. They sniped at each other, yes, but it was clearly based in friendship, in respect, in admiration, and growing love. Katrina could see how they played off each other; the witty banter, the playful teasing, the quips and squabbles all masking the feelings they obviously had for each other. Even the way he had carried Miss Mills - so delicately, so concerned, so lovingly - had earlier confirmed to Katrina what she had already foreseen so many times before.

So she was glad that she had witnessed this. She was so pleased that she spoke with Ichabod and shared her thoughts and premonitions. She finally felt content and at peace. Everything in this modern era would be all right. She helped grant Ichabod closure, and now she finally had hers.

Katrina bid the duo farewell, walked away from the car and headed straight for Aldus’ welcoming arms.

...................................

“Crane, really, I think I can walk now. Just slowly. You don’t have to be so…“ Abbie didn’t know how to finish the sentence. They had arrived at the cabin after about a half an hour drive, Crane driving her crazy the entire time. He kept asking how she felt every five minutes, while pointedly avoiding her questions about his conversation with Katrina.

She was now standing beside her car, looking up at the cabin, debating over the best way for her to make her way inside with the least amount of pain.

“Abbie, it is no trouble for me to carry you. At all.”

Crane looked insistent, with a hint of his special brand of stubbornness and Abbie just let out a long-suffering sigh in defeat. “ _Fine_.” He hoisted her up with ease and headed straight for the cabin's enclosed porch.

Once inside, in an impressive display of balance and strength, he managed to kick off his knee high military boots with Abbie still in his arms. The soles and backs of his boots were caked in blood and charred demon flesh and he left them in a heap on the wooden floor of the porch in an attempt to prevent sullying up the cabin.

In the living room, he further impressed her by carefully setting her down on her feet in front of the couch, grabbing a linen bed sheet and a large towel from the hallway closet and spreading the sheet over the couch. Both of them were absolutely filthy and Crane seemed diligent in ensuring he not destroy or foul up any of the furniture. Once the sheet was draped, he helped Abbie hop over and sit down.

Pulling the small ottoman over, he draped the towel over the top and positioned her left leg so that it was stretched straight out and resting on the top cushion. He then knelt down on the floor on front of her.

Abbie just watched Ichabod with a confused yet amused look on her face. "Are you okay, Crane?"

He was being overly attentive and acting a little strange and Abbie didn’t know what to do with this. She smiled a little to herself as she realized how close she had grown to her displaced 18th century partner in such a short period of time. She knew him so well now that she could easily tell when he was acting weirder than normal, which was somewhat of a remarkable feat considering his overall unusualness.

"Fine, Abbie. A little tired but nonetheless fine." He fussed with her leg for another moment before looking up at her expectantly. “Why do you ask?”

"Um...well...you did have that long talk with Katrina tonight." she pointedly brought up yet again, while searching his face for any potential sign of distress. There was nothing at all to indicate that he was hurt or upset or anguished over his encounter with Katrina. "I was just wondering if you were okay." She didn't mention that she also desperately wanted to know what happened and that the curiosity was killing her.

"Everything is clear and settled, Abbie." he replied cryptically, a barely visible smile turning up the corners of his mouth. "It is you who requires concern. How does your leg feel?"

Abbie bit her lip. She was hoping she could coax the information out of him easier than he was letting her. "Leg's fine. So…” she trailed off as she looked up at the ceiling, trying to avoid his piercing gaze, "What did you two talk about?" She tried to ignore the fact that her voice pitched a bit higher than usual.

"I must go fetch supplies to tend to your wound." he said, ignoring her question yet again.

"You're not going to tell me what you two talked about?" She couldn't hide the disappointment and impatience in her voice he would not confide in her when he _always_ confided in her.

Crane was silent for a few moments as he seemed to be thinking over his answer. "Let us make a pact. I shall tend to your injury and once you are mended to your liking, I shall reveal to you the conversation." he paused again, blue eyes searching her face for any reaction before continuing, "I shall also reveal to you the most unexpected, encouraging and – hopefully positive - future of that conversation. I daresay it could be life-changing."

She pursed her lips. _What was with the cryptic responses?_ _Life-changing? What the hell does that mean by that…?_ As Abbie mulled over his words, she suddenly realized that maybe the conversation was about Katrina changing her mind and decided to resume her life with Crane.

 _That’s it. That’s why he’s so happy_ , she concluded. From her view from the car, Crane and Katrina both seemed completely engaged in a deep and emotional conversation and came out displaying easy affection with each other.

Annoyingly for Abbie, they had whispered low enough that she was unable to hear any part of it.

But he seemed upbeat now, jubilant even, so that was most likely it. A small feeling of disappointment seemed to pit in the base of her stomach, surprising her.

She tried to ignore the feeling of dejection that seemed to slowly spread through her. She wanted Crane to be happy and was irritated with herself for feeling even remotely crestfallen over this possible news. She didn't even want to think about how it would impact their partnership once Katrina returned to the fold. Would they still maintain the same kind of easy camaraderie? What about their close friendship?

 _This must be why Crane was holding back,_ she mused to herself.

_But that comment from Katrina…_

_What did she say again…?_ Abbie tried to remember the exact words. _I make Crane more charming…He blooms in my presence….that was it, right? And that stupid sexy bow.....in front of his wife!! What the hell…?_

Abbie was completely mystified. Both Crane and Katrina’s behaviour made no sense.

“Abbie, are you okay?” she heard his deep voice breaking through the conflicted thoughts whirling in her head. She hadn't heard a word Crane had said.

"Sorry, what? What did you say again?" she shook her head slightly, trying to clear her mind.

"I was just saying, that as to your leg, I think that you should take advantage of a soothing shower before I tend to your injury."

"Crane, we both need to take a shower. You're covered in demon slime too, you know?" she wrinkled her nose at him in disgust.

"Are you suggesting that we take a shower together?" he asked, displaying the most innocent and angelic expression Abbie had ever seen in her life.

"Wait, what?" Abbie sputtered, now completely flustered. _Okay, there is something_ really _wrong with him._ There was not the hint of any blush or embarrassment on his face. The only red on his cheeks came from the smears of demon blood acquired earlier in the evening.

Maybe he meant something different than how she _heard_ it. "Crane...?" she trailed off, "I don't think you meant that the way it sounded..."

"Oh yes, I see what you mean." he replied, but Abbie was convinced he was feigning confusion. "Of course we will not shower together. How inappropriate at this particular time.”

_At this particular time? What the hell....?_

"I will take my shower first, then assist you, if you desire it." he rose from the position on the floor. "Do you require any water or anything else at this time?"

"Uh no, thanks."

He now gave her a small bow and said. "I shall return hastily" and then headed for the bathroom.

Okay, now she was really bewildered. What on earth was wrong with Crane? He and Katrina must have had a _very interesting and very enlightening_ conversation because right now, Abbie has no idea what the hell was going on with him.

_Life changing, indeed._

The stuff that came out of Crane's mouth this evening and his overall behaviour had thrown her for a loop, yet he seemed so unaware of how suggestive his words and behaviour seemed to be.

Abbie knew he was still learning the idioms and slang terms of the modern day, but that shower comment? And why was he being so evasive and ambiguous in telling her about his conversation with Katrina? Abbie wondered again if Crane perhaps was avoiding the inevitable delivery of his ‘wonderful news’.

She once again tried to remember everything he said that evening, running his words through her head again to find any clue of what he was thinking or feeling when she suddenly realized that he had referred to her as _Abbie_ the entire evening. Not a single Miss Mills had been spoken, ever since he tackled her to the ground and away from the attacking zombie demon.

_What on hell is going on with this guy?_

Abbie shifted a bit on the couch and felt a sharp pain course along her thigh.

_Oh yeah, my leg._

All of Crane's weird behaviour and uncharacteristic comments drew her focus and she had completely forgotten about her messed up thigh and ankle.

.........................................................

After a short shower to conserve water for Abbie, Ichabod toweled off and quickly dressed. His mind wandered once again back to Abbie and her completely unhidden desperation at knowing the details about his conversation with Katrina.

_"Um...well..you did have a long talk with Katrina tonight." Abbie had said._

He knew she was desperate for information and the curiosity was causing her impatience. She kept prodding him for information, first in the car, and now in the cabin, completely ignoring his attempts to deflect her questions and delay his answer.

 _How did Abbie once refer to it?_ Crane thought to himself. _That’s right._ _I am just ‘messing’ with her._

Ichabod decided he wanted to playfully tease and needle her a little before finally revealing to her what words passed between Katrina and himself this evening.

He felt a tinge of guilt about his words and actions. He had to admit he was a little proud to have finally completely flustered Abbie. For the many days, weeks and months that had passed since he had met Abbie, it was her that always flustered and confounded him. For once, he was finally was able to turn the tables.

He assuaged his guilt by the fact that tonight he would divulge everything.

He wanted Abbie to know that he felt he had finally found the closure he so desperately needed.

He wanted Abbie to know how much he wanted to be with her, to spend every waking moment with her, that he truly belonged to her, if only she would have him.

Ichabod picked up the hairdryer from the countertop and stared at it for a moment, a smile spreading across his face. His thoughts wandered to that day not long ago, when he had injured his hands from the hours of wood chopping insanity. He remembered how his anger had overpowered him, turning him into a senseless animal. He remembered the calming effect that Abbie had on his being, how she took care of him despite his temporary descent into lunacy.

They ended up right where he stood now, and could hear Abbie’s gentle voice asking him if he wanted her to dry his hair. He could almost feel the sensations of her fingers running through his hair, slowly lifting and twining within the strands, causing small shivers or desire to run up and down his spine.

Glancing down at the vanity countertop, he remembered every detail of her perched on the surface. Her eyes, so dark and beautiful yet full of fear and concern. Her lithe legs wrapped around his waist pulling him towards her. He thought of her hands running along his scarred chest, as though she could not get enough contact, to her full inviting lips and her tongue teasing and tangling with his.

The intense desire and thrill he felt when he had kissed her rushed back, the passion within him so overwhelming it threatened to consume him then. It threatened to consume him now. He marveled at the passion in which she had returned his kiss; so full of want and desire for him.

_For me._

He took deep breath.

Ichabod had convinced himself then that his unbridled desire was an anomaly, brought on by the anger and betrayal he felt and his weak and addled state of mind. But his mind was easily converted again, a few weeks later. That night, Abbie dragged him out of his melancholy, proceeded to get him shamelessly loaded and then lay in his arms all night in front of the fireplace.

He remembered how good it felt having her in his arms, her leg draped over his waist, her arms stroking his chest, her body melded into his own, just being at one with each other.

He flipped on the small hairdryer, and as he hastily dried his hair, his thoughts drifted to the evenings’ activities and he chuckled a little to himself at his earlier shower comment.

Though he was still learning the complex yet unintelligible multiple-meaning vocabulary of the modern era, he has learned enough to occasionally communicate in the preferred double-entendres of this generation.

He could tell that she was becoming increasingly frustrated with his evasive demeanour, but that would end soon enough. He had once asked her for time. To give him time to sort out his mind and his heart. She had granted him this with no complaints or demands.

The only time he needed was now. It was time for him to finally bare his heart and soul to his modern day partner.

He would reveal the truth to her later this night.

If only the nervous knot of doubt in his stomach would disappear before he did so.

.................................

Abbie leaned forward and carefully moved her fingers around her ankle, pressing the tips deep into the skin. Nothing seemed broken or out of place. She could feel a large swelling around the side, but the bones were intact. Leaning back into the sofa, she closed her eyes and tried to flex her foot a bit. A sharp pain responded, radiating around her lower leg.

 _Dammit_ , she thought as she clenched her teeth. _Definitely sprained. But definitely not broken._

All in all, this was okay. A sprain would recover quickly. A broken bone, not so much. She was just glad that it wasn't worse. The pain wasn't even as bad as earlier in the evening, the intensity having dulled a little over the last hour or so.

Abbie now leaned over towards her left side so she could examine the blackened and slime covered skin on her left leg. She didn't want to prod the area with her hands; her fingers were filthy and that last thing she wanted to do was introduce any more dirt into the raw and blistered area.

She tried to gauge how bad the burns were by flexing her thigh muscle in an attempt to pull at the skin. There was no pain, which was good, just a slight throbbing from the minor burns. She figured most of the reddish ooze on her leg was caked on flesh and blood, and thankfully not her own.

"It doesn't look as damaged as I initially thought." Crane's voice broke into her thoughts once again. She startled and looked up quickly to see him standing in front of her. "God, Crane, you scared me. Don't do that."

"My apologies."

"You're done already?" she asked, as she gave him a quick once-over. He looked unbelievably modern right now. And she didn’t want to admit to herself but he looked crazy attractive too.

He was wearing a plain black henley shirt with the sleeves pulled up to his elbows and a pair of navy blue cotton pajama pants, or jammie pants, as she liked to called them. He looked completely modern and comfortable and so not like his 18th century antiquated self.

She remembered picking these items out for him a few weeks ago on one of her many _Crane-needs-clothes_ shopping trips. She had intended this to be sleepwear for him, so was completely surprised to see him wearing this particular outfit in her presence. This was the same guy who always complaining about the complete lack of propriety and decency of modern era clothing.

He must have read her mind, because he held out his hands at his sides and said, "Most of my wardrobe is soiled and requires washing. I have but this pairing to wear, and also a similar pairing that I have reserved for you." By pairing, she guessed he meant the t-shirt and jammie pant combination. "I pray that my attire is not offensive to you? I realize that you intended this to be worn as bedroom attire."

She looked up into his eyes, and now noticed that his hair was dry and hanging loose, the slight waves gently framing his face and highlighting his handsome features.

She grinned, "Don't worry. You're pretty innocuous right now."

He cocked his eyebrow at her comment and she noticed how deep blue his eyes were at that moment, almost the colour of the ocean. For some reason it reminded her of that day when she helped him mend his battered up hands, after the heinous wood-chopping mania and resulting make out session. He looked smoking then too.

_Wait, why did that just pop up in my head?_

Abbie was starting to think she and Crane had inhaled too much exploding demon debris and magic fumes because he had been acting just plain odd and she was having some very inappropriate thoughts.

"It is your turn." he stated. "Shall I carry you to the shower?"

She laughed a little at his attentiveness. "You just cleaned up, Crane. You carry me, you'll get covered in dirt again. Just hold my arm and help me walk." she said.

"As my lady wishes." He did as she requested, helping Abbie carefully make her way to the small bathroom at the opposite end of the cabin. She was very careful to not lean on him too much; she didn't want his clean clothes to get ruined.

They entered the bathroom slowly and Abbie saw that Crane has laid out a series of towels on the floor, in the empty corner of the tiny room. "For you to lay your soiled clothes upon." he explained. His own pile was already heaped in the middle.

"Thank you."

"I tried to conserve the hot water for you. And over there is your clothing for afterward." he pointed at the small pile of neatly folded clothes sitting on top of the vanity.

"Thank you again." she paused, eyeing him carefully. It seemed he didn't want to leave. "Are you going to watch?"

He paused, opening his mouth to say something, then seemed to realize his behaviour. "No, of course not! This is most ungentlemanly of me. I shall be outside if you require anything.” He flashed a slightly sheepish smile, turned and quickly left the room.

Abbie shook her head at his behaviour. She undressed carefully, leaving her stained clothes on the towels and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water envelope her.

Abbie was now determined; once she was done with her shower and her leg patched up - she was so going to make Crane talk.

Something was on his mind and was making him act very peculiar at the moment. He obviously had something important to tell her and she would get it out of him if it were the last thing she did today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I think the next chapter will be the end, but I am not 100% sure.
> 
> A little X-files homage to anyone who can spot it!
> 
> Thank you to everyone for your awesome comments and kudos and general enjoyment of this fic.


	9. New Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter! Sorry for the delay, this one was a hard one to write.

Chapter 9 - New Beginnings

Abbie finished with her own shower with plenty of hot water to spare. She would have to be sure she thanked Crane for being such a gentleman. The scalding yet soothing water was just what she needed to relieve her aching muscles and to scrub off all of the filth that was clinging to her.

She dried herself off and with another fluffy towel, squeezed as much water from her hair as she could. She now sorted through the neatly folded pile of clothes on the counter top and couldn't help but chuckle a little at what Crane had selected for her.

There was a large black V-neck T-shirt and a pair of black cotton boxer shorts she had picked up for him a few weeks ago. On the subject of underwear shopping, she didn't ask him a thing about his opinions or preferences or even explained anything. She just picked up a variety of underwear types for him - briefs, boxer briefs and boxer shorts - and let him choose on his own time and in his own privacy.

As she pulled on the T-shirt and shorts, she laughed to herself again. Though Crane was a tall skinny guy, the shorts still hung a little loose from her hips. Even the T-shirt fit large and long on her, the hem skimming at her thighs. The soft cotton clothing felt incredibly comfortable on her bruised and battered skin.

She wondered if Crane even realized that the boxers were to be worn as underwear. _A conversation for another time_ , she thought. _Or maybe now just so I can have some fun with him._

She used the towel to squeeze more water out of her hair when a knock came at the door.

"Abbie?" Crane's voice came from the other side.

"Yeah, Crane. You can come in. I'm dressed.”

The door opened and Crane entered, two glasses balanced in one hand. She looked at him with a bit of confusion, to which he replied 'rum' in explanation.

She nodded in approval, took the glass from his outstretched hand, lifted it in a silent toast and took a long sip. "Mm, good. Thanks."

He nodded, and she caught his eyes drifting down to her bare legs, lingering but for a moment before snapping back up to her face. "Abbie, please, I think you need to sit on the countertop for me to bandage your leg." He tried to hide his sheepish look.

"Alright, but remember you promised to tell me all about your talk with Katrina." she pointed out.

"I believe our pact decreed that I would share this information _after_ your leg was mended." he replied with a hint of stubbornness.

"Yeah, yeah." she groused, knowing full well he was right. She put the glass to the corner of the small vanity top and hopped up. "Alright, fine then. Mend away."

Crane positioned himself directly in front of her, and her mind suddenly flashed to the last time she was in this exact position. The roles were reversed; he injured, she treating him and thought it ironic. She pushed away the thoughts of what else had happened that day. She would not think about his lips ravishing her own…

Crane took a long pull of his own rum as though steeling himself, then placed the glass down next to hers. "Are the clothes I selected satisfactory? As I mentioned, I did not have much choice."

She smiled in reassurance. "They're fine. Comfy actually." she wondered if she should needle him a little, since he had been irritating her all night with his refusal to share any information. She decided she would. "You know that these are really underwear for men, right?" she asked, using her index finger to tap her thigh indicating the black boxers.

His eyes went down to her leg again for a moment before answering. "I do, actually. I did not have much to offer, suffice it to say. Also, your leg needs to be exposed for me to tend to the area. Are they acceptable?"

"No worries, Crane, they're fine." With an amused smile, she decided to give him a little modern lesson in boxer-short wearing. "You might be surprised to know that even though they're supposed to be for men, a lot of woman might wear their boyfriends' boxers around the house."

"Have you?" he asked, a serious look on his face.

She shrugged her shoulders a little. "Uh yeah, I have in the past. It's not unusual."

"Would you be willing to do so now?"

Her brow furrowed as she looked at him curiously. "Well, I'm wearing yours now, and you know I'm single, so I guess I'm not wearing my boyfriends. But yeah sure if I had a guy and he wore boxers, why not?”

He let out a barely perceptible sigh and then started taking supplies from the cabinet on the wall to the left of Abbie. He pulled out a rolled up tensor bandage, antiseptic, cotton pads, sterile bandages and a small pair of scissors, and placed the items on the narrow surface of the vanity, next to their drinks.

"First, your ankle." he declared. Unrolling the tensor bandage, he began to carefully wind the thick elastic tightly around her ankle and around the arch of her foot. Once done, he secured the end with the metal clips and stepped back. "How does that feel?" he asked.

She wiggled her toes a bit and carefully tilted her ankle side to side. "Good. Really good, actually. Nice work, Nurse Crane." she grinned.

"Hardly amusing." he replied, rolling his eyes though with a satisfied look on his face. "Now for the most dire area."

"You promised me." she reminded him impatiently.

"But I am not yet finished."

"Oh no, Crane. You've been holding back all night and it’s driving me crazy. My leg's half fixed, so you can tell me the first half." she stuck her bottom lip out a little, trying to look pouty and sad.

His gaze settled on his lips for a moment, as though mesmerized by her mouth before moving up to her lovely dark brown eyes "I did promise. I just..."

"Honour, Crane. You made a promise to me and I'm holding you to it. Didn't you 18th century guys always pontificate about the importance of honour?"

"Yes, but it was always in reference to a great battle or other chivalrous acts." Little crinkles appeared at the corner of his eyes as he grinned, "I do not think idle gossip would apply."

"This is so not idle gossip. This is your life." She touched his arm lightly, her demeanour now serious. "You've been through a lot the last little while. I care about you and am worried about you, alright?"

"I know you are."A look of pure content appeared on his face **.** "Let me think of how to start. It is important that my words are properly conveyed." He leaned forward, carefully examining the burns on the side of her leg. Using a cotton pad moistened with antiseptic, he carefully dabbed over the raw skin, ever so gentle.

Abbie remained silent to allow Crane to focus and gather his thoughts. _He has a photographic memory! Why does he need to ensure his words are 'properly conveyed'_ , _whatever the hell that means. C'mon Crane, it's me. Just tell me._

She silently willed him to speak, as though somehow she had the ability for mind control and could prompt Crane with just a thought. Abbie realized that there were so many times when she and Crane _would_ communicate non-verbally, as though they could read each other’s mind. Right now, she wished she could truly read his.

"The burns are not so bad." he announced, a hint of relief in his voice. He continued dabbing, frequently looked up at her face, to see if he was causing her pain.

"I'm okay. It doesn't hurt." she said, answering his silent inquiry.

He dabbed a bit more around the area then said, "You have some blisters and the area is quite inflamed, but there are no serious burns, I don't think."

"That's good. You're still avoiding me."

"Do you recall the last time we were in this exact situation?" he asked out of the blue, his voice low and gentle.

Abbie looked at him with surprise, but he refused to meet her eye. "Uh yeah...I do." Her brow furrowed before she responded. "You decided to do some insanely stupid wood chopping."

 _And some insanely amazing kissing_.

She was starting to think this was yet another way for him to avoid his pact with her. "Why are you asking me about that?"

Crane ignored her question, instead focused on wrapping a long section of sterile bandage around her thigh.

She definitely remembered everything about that encounter. How his lean body settled in between her thighs, her own legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him close. Her hands running over his firm chest, nails digging lightly into his warm skin. She remembered the look of raw passion in his eyes, and how he kissed her, full of pent up desire, and that he didn’t seem to be able to get enough.

She remembered specifically that he was the one who had made the first move. He had kissed her first. For a brief moment, she could feel his lips and tongue on her own and a small shiver of pleasure coursed through her.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, noticing her reaction.

"No, no, sorry. Just thinking of something else." Abbie turned her focus back to his apparent refusal to say anything. She took a long drink of her rum, tapping her fingernails against the glass in impatience as she watched him finish with the bandages.

"Okay, good, you're done." she declared before he could stall some more. "Now tell me what happened."

He straightened up and stood about a foot in front of her, his eyes widened a bit, as though he was put on the spot and was trying to gather his wits about him. She saw him take a deep breath and glimpsed a bit of apprehension behind his eyes.

"Pact, Crane. Pact." she reminded him, her patience now completely evaporated. She put her glass back down on the countertop.

"Abbie, I'm not sure how to begin, I confess."

"You said life-changing, right? Something good came out of it for you, right?" she rotated her hand a little, trying to prompt him. "Just spit it out."

"I did say life changing, yes. But I am not the only one whom this revelation concerns." He took another deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment as he did, then exhaled quickly. "Katrina revealed to me that she is able to experience visions and premonitions. She can essentially foresee the future and those intimately involved. She had foreseen my life with her in the 18th century." He paused, studying her for any reaction. Abbie ensured her expression remained open and neutral. He continued on. "Now she has divulged that she has foreseen a strong premonition of the future here in this modern time."

"She can see into the future, really?" The revelation surprised Abbie a bit, though with Katrina being a witch, this was another power that made sense she probably would have. "That's pretty cool, actually."

Crane chuckled a little. "Yes, it is _cool,_ I suppose."

"So if she gets these premonitions, then she knows exactly what's going to happen?"

"Only for those she loves or whom are close to her. And not exactly. There is still, I suspect, freewill and the choice to embrace these revelations or to simply ignore them."

"So you're telling me that she knows what your own future is supposed to be?"

"She does, yes. How _both_ of our futures may be destined to unfold.”

"But it's your choice to go on that path?"

"It is the choice of both of us to follow that path, yes."

Abbie mulled this over a bit, realizing that her earlier guess that Katrina decided to reunite with Crane and resume her marriage was dead on. She guessed that he had already decided to follow that future too. His use of the words _our_ and _we_ and _both of us_ told Abbie all she needed to know; Crane and Katrina had chosen to follow the destined path. The fact that he seemed so hesitant now, as though telling her this information would irreparably damage her own intimate friendship and partnership with him cemented it for Abbie.

She looked up to see that his demeanour seemed unsure of what her reaction would be, yet his eyes were filled with a hint of anticipation. Abbie sighed a little, her own eyes now focusing towards the floor.

She finally had to admit it to herself. This was what she knew deep down in her heart she was afraid of. With Katrina's return, they would most likely end up spending much less time together. The long hours huddled in the archives or in the cabin, working by candlelight late into the night, trying to make sense of strange puzzles and odd mythology. The snarky arguments and stubborn debates, her holding her own almost every time. Even little things like teaching Crane about the nuances of the 21st century, all while helping him navigate through the complex and crazy fast world. There were so many times that she learned from him as he did from her. Abbie had long ago realized that she absolutely loved spending time with Ichabod Crane.

Could she still tease and taunt him with such ease and candor? Could she still introduce him to new life experiences? She was worried that her casual and laid back behaviour and attitude might even be seen by Katrina as inappropriate towards her husband. Sure as hell, there wouldn’t be any more drunken card playing or bar hopping or late nights in the archives and her sauntering into the cabin at all hours without recourse.

 _And you’ll never be intimate with him again._ No, things were definitely going to change.

 _But you want him to be happy, right Abbie?_ She asked herself. _I do, I really do. After everything he's been through._ In her heart, she truly knew she did.

There were countless times her mind would drift off and she would reflect on Crane's situation, thinking about what it would be like to live in such a simple yet somewhat backwards time and then to suddenly wake up surrounded by the tumultuous insanity of the modern world. His fear was expertly hidden, but she knew it lingered deep within him.

She would try to think of everything that was second nature to her. Cars, trains and airplanes. Modern medicine, DNA, the concept of evolution! The proof that microscopic bacteria or viruses caused illness. That other solar systems existed, black holes and the Big Bang, that human's had travelled in space and stepped onto the moon. He had never had a home wired for electricity or indoor plumbing or the telephone. Refrigeration, clean tap water and hot showers. Department stores selling anything and everything, grocery stores with every food imaginable. He had not an inkling of that world prior to crawling out of his two hundred year old grave.

Crane was intelligent, educated and an incredibly fast learner, but she realized over and over again how many things she herself, and those around her, simply took for granted. It was just a fact of life, _knowing_ certain things, intuitively understanding how things worked, and Crane had to learn every bit of the naturally attained knowledge she possessed.

There were times she would lie in bed, her mind reeling over what he truly didn't know and it made her feel so protective of him yet so sad. Her own upbringing was an eventual disaster, the encounter with Moloch in the woods starting the eventual breakdown of her family. Her sister Jenny refusing to acknowledge her, her mother languishing in a mental institution, her father alive but simply gone. But Abbie could still deal with the world around her. The world around her made sense and she could easily move through it, even if her own personal life contained a fair amount of challenges. Crane didn't have that luxury.

So if having Katrina return to him would help her partner deal with the crazy modern world, then she would support him one hundred percent. Though they would be fighting together as Witnesses for the next six odd years, he still deserved whatever peace and joy he could find during that time.

 _Whatever happens, happens_ , Abbie grudgingly decided and she made herself a vow that she would support him completely. She would just have to accept the potential negative impact to her own personal relationship with him.

"Abbie, are you listening? You seem....lost." Crane's voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Yes, yes. I'm here." she paused a moment before locking eyes with him. "Look, I know what you’re going to say?" Abbie said determinedly.

His eyes widened. "You do?" he asked, his voice betraying a slight panic. "I did not think you were able to overhear."

"Well, I didn't hear anything, actually. I just guessed." She took a sip of rum while trying to avoid his gaze. "You two looked like you had a really in-depth conversation and you seemed really ecstatic after. I figured it was because Katrina decided to come back."

"Come back?"

"Yeah, come back. So you two can be together again." She put her hand on his arm and gave him a big squeeze in reassurance. "You know I said I would be your friend and always be here for you, right?"

"Abbie...." his tone was soft and gentle.

She cut him off. "Well, even though it's been a rough couple of months for you, you know what? I just want you to be happy. And with Katrina coming back, I know you will be now that you can resume your marriage. I think that's great. Really. I'm truly happy for you." She added a vigorous nod of her head for emphasis.

"Abbie, that's not..."

She cut him off again as she tried to appear as optimistic and positive as she could, though a little pit of disappointment lingered. "Seriously, Crane. I mean, yeah it'll suck that we probably won't get to spend as much time together but you deserve some good things to happen in your life."

As she continued babbling on, Abbie didn't notice Crane inching closer to her, his eyes searching her face, a hint of bemusement within. It was as though he were trying to peer into her soul, to determine if she was truly being honest with her words.

"I mean, we probably won't get to hang out as much here in the cabin anymore. And we probably won't be able to go to baseball or other sports games or other stuff like that but you’d probably get sick of that anyway. And I doubt she would want you to spend all night in the archives like we sometimes do, but I'm sure we'll figure it out..." she finally allowed herself to look up into his eyes.

When her gaze locked onto his, the intense determination in Ichabod’s eyes almost overwhelmed her. In a sudden movement, Abbie felt Crane cup her face in his hands and his lips come swooping down onto hers. His kiss was searing, his lips and tongue moving against her so passionately that she could hardly breathe. She felt as though set aflame, lust quivering through her entire body.

After a minute he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed, her face still cradled in his warm hands. He kissed her again lightly then murmured against her lips. "My destiny is you, Abbie."

"I don't understand." she looked up into his now open eyes, vibrant blue, and filled with desire. "I thought that...."

"You were mistaken."

"I need to know." she whispered. "You need to tell me."

He smiled at her lovingly and gently stroked her face as he started to explain. " _You_ are my destiny, Abbie. Katrina had foreseen our future together. _Our future_. Yours and mine.”

He now took her small hand in his and gently stroked his thumb over the top of her palm. He took a deep breath. "With Katrina’s power to see the future, it was why she nullified her engagement to Abraham and declared her love for me. She knew it was destiny then, to ensure my path to Witness. But it was a certain destiny only in my era." He raised her hand and placed a gentle kiss on her palm.

"That path was also meant to lead to you. She told me she sensed our strong bond, our strong connection. You and I, Abbie. The two of us. We are destined to be together....if only you would have me."

Abbie pulled back a little, staring hard at Ichabod. She had to take a moment to process his words. He had been avoiding divulging the details of the conversation all night because he was obviously afraid of how she would react. But it was not how she would react to his resuming his marriage, no. It was how she would react to his declaration that their fates were to be entwined more intimately than she ever imagined they would be.

As she replayed the events of the evening in her head, something now occurred to her.

"Wait a minute, is that why she made that weird comment? About me making you bloom or something?" she paused a few seconds before her eyes widened in surprise, "That's why you did that bow. Oh my god, I was so _angry_ with you. I thought, what are you doing, in front of your wife?"

Crane grinned, his eyes sparkling as her realizations grew and she became more animated.

"You carrying me into the cabin. That comment about taking a shower together. The boxer shorts!" Abbie shook her head slowly as everything started to piece together and make sense. "That's why you didn't want to tell me right away."

"I may have been jesting with you a tiny amount." He looked apologetic now. "I just did not know how to reveal this revelation to you. I was frightened that you would not take it well, I confess."

"You bastard!" She reached forward and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him towards her in exasperation. "I thought you'd gone insane or something. You've been acting so strange all night." Her motion brought his mouth close to hers and without hesitation, kissed her again, a long slow kiss, his lips moving gently yet sensuously over her own.

"Am I forgiven?" his lips lightly brushed against her own.

"Kiss me again and I'll think about it." He did exactly as she desired, and as he teased her mouth with his tongue, he gently positioned her legs so that they encircled his waist, encouraging her to pull him as close as she could, as though he wanted to get as close to her as possible. When he pulled away, she could feel an intense heat burning her cheeks and butterflies dancing in her belly.

She let out a small sigh. "I might be taking it well. But you did a good job of driving me crazy, that's for sure."

"My apologies."

Abbie now rested her hands lightly against his chest, thinking back to his torturous determination to mess with her. She decided to get a little playful. "So you said earlier this evening that this information was wonderful and potentially life-changing. So you actually meant for us both, right?"

"I did."

"What makes you think I'll take you, though? You know, I have lots of other guys lurking around asking me out all of the time. I just haven't had the time, what with fighting the apocalypse and everything. So, you know, you've got some competition."

Ichabod's mouth dropped open in response, the confusion over the fact that she had just willingly kissed him back, but was now spouting on about other potential suitors. He swallowed hard, then caught the sparkle in her beautiful brown eyes and knew that once again, she had gained the upper hand and once again managed to completely confound him.

Instead of getting cross or flustered, he lifted her up into his arms in a fluid motion and without a word, carried her to the living room and set her down onto the couch in front of the fireplace. He then sat down beside her and took her hand in his and gently kissed her wrist.

"Abbie, do you recall the night we spent lying in front of the fireplace, that day of your tough love?”

Abbie nodded yes, slightly stunned by his actions.

“I remember the one notion, one thought that repeated in my mind the whole of that evening. That being with you was absolute wonder and bliss. Abbie, lying with you in my arms just felt right. I felt as though this was my destiny and now I know that it is. I cannot explain it, but I have always felt drawn to you, from the first moment we met.” He trailed off a little, trying to properly gather his thoughts.

“Crane…” Abbie raised her hand to stroke his cheek gently. “Ichabod.” For some reason, it felt right to use his first name now.

He let out a small bitter laugh, seemingly disgusted with himself. "I can speak multiple languages with ease, yet I cannot properly articulate my thoughts and feelings for you now. I can only ask again. Will you have me?"

"Let's see. Stuffy arrogant tall white English guy from the 18th century and impatient willful short black American girl from the 21st century. I can totally see how we would be completely compatible." she joked.

He chuckled a little at this, "True. But one cannot ignore the desires of the heart." he paused then added, "and the mind. Abbie, you challenge me every day, to think and feel and embrace these strange wonders of the new world. Yet, when I am with you, I feel at peace, as though I belong in this modern time.”

“Well, if you belong here, I guess I can give it a try." she said with a teasing smirk.

"Abbie..." she could tell he was hoping for a more serious answer.

"You realize you’ve been calling me Abbie all night, right?"

"Have I? I did not realize."

"You have and I like it. So are you going to 'court' me?”

He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the neck and earlobe. "I would suspect that you would be adverse to that antiquated behaviour."

"Not necessarily. I'm curious actually, what it would be like." she shifted closer to Ichabod, and wrapping her hands around his neck, moved her mouth to run her lips along his jawline. She had never been with a guy who sported a beard before. Savouring the rough yet silky feel, she decided she liked the sensation immensely. Her hands moved into the hair at the nape of his neck and she decided she loved winding her fingers within. She had never been with a man with long hair before either.

She could hear him let out a low moan as she did. "You realize that I'll have to teach you some modern dating methods, right?" she quipped.

He smiled at her, and the passionate and intense look in his eyes made her feel weak. "Do you remember I once told you I looked forward to you expanding my horizons?" he asked, his voice low and throaty.

"Mmm..."

"I am open to any and _all_ of your suggestions."

She bit her lip. She was not used to Crane being seductive and it was incredibly sexy. "Okay then. First lesson in modern dating. Lying in front of the fireplace, in the arms of an amazingly sexy person is perfectly acceptable behaviour for a first date."

"Then I daresay we have already experienced our first date." he pointed out. "Our night of inebriated tough love, if you remember?”

“I do remember. But I don’t think we finished that date.”

“Then we shall now.”

Abbie smiled and gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek. “I will.”

“Pardon me?”

“I will. I will have you. I want to have you. You have no idea.” Abbie was not one for sappy flowery words. All she could do was hope that Ichabod understood how much he meant to her and that she wanted to fulfill her destiny with him. She shifted a little and snuggled against him, wanting to be enveloped by his warm firm body. She fit perfectly, as though he were made for her. He put his arm around her and pulled her even closer.

They sat twined in each other’s arms, staring at the fireplace as though hypnotized by the crackling flames. Not a word was spoken for almost ten minutes, before Ichabod finally broke the silence.

“I have but two wishes for our future.” He murmured against her ear.

“Yeah? What’s the first?”

“That our valiant efforts to halt the apocalypse are successful.”

Abbie laughed a little at this. “And the second wish?”

"I wish to spend the rest of my life in hopes that I will always be worthy of your love."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you to everyone who read and liked and commented on this story!!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments welcome!! Please read and comment.


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